The Courtship of Peregrin Took
by Davesmom
Summary: IN PROGRESS...With Bilbo and Frodo now gone, and Sam settled in with a family, Pippin and Merry feel restless. Remebering their promise to Treebeard, and hearing the story Sam's cousin Hal tells, they decide on a jaunt to the North Farthing...with surpri
1. Good-byes and New Beginnings

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. R. R. Tolkein, his various remaining family members and the J. R. R. Tolkein Estate, LTD. There is no intent to plagiarize, and I receive no profit from this fiction. Just basking in the glow of a wonderful and talented author whose accomplishments are far beyond my own humble scribblings.  
  
Spoilers: The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Fellowship of the Rings, the movie.  
  
A/N: If you've only seen the movie and haven't read the trilogy, DON'T READ THIS FIC!!!!!! Serious spoilers for the remainder of the saga. Couldn't find 'Long Cleeve' on any of the maps I found, so I took the liberty of placing it in the North Farthing, since the 'north-Tooks' of Long Cleeve seem to have settled north rather than south. Any mistakes in years, ages, locations are purely the laziness of the author, and corrections are welcome. Many of the references to prior conversations are taken from 'The Hobbit' and 'The Lord of the Rings' (disclaimed above). Thanks for reading.  
  
The Courtship of Peregrin Took  
  
  
  
S.R. 1421 October 5  
  
The three weary travelers reigned in their ponies. They had been traveling in near silence for some time now. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but a companionable quiet. Each had many thoughts to think and they were content in just having the company of the other. Being near the East Road north of Waymoot, they could have made it home if they wanted to push a bit. Or they could have simply continued to Waymoot and stayed at an inn, for that matter. But they seemed reluctant to separate just yet. One more night on the road would be no great burden.  
  
They had left the Grey Havens on the twenty-ninth of September, after seeing their dear friends, Bilbo, Frodo and Gandalf off on the Elven vessel that would take them away into the west. The journey back to the Shire had been slow and quiet, with an air of melancholy hanging over the three hobbits. And now, on this cool October evening, the end of the journey was in sight. Tomorrow they would go their separate ways again.  
  
"This looks like as good a place as any," said the shortest of the three travelers, gratefully dismounting his pony and massaging his thighs. He gave his stout pony an affectionate rub on the nose, telling him, "Good job, Bill. You've earned your rest!"  
  
The other two, taller and less serious looking than their fellow, also dismounted, although they didn't seem as fatigued as their friend.  
  
As they removed supplies and sleeping rolls from their ponies' backs, the youngest of the group mused, "I can't believe they're really gone! It seems like the end of an era!"  
  
Meriadoc Brandybuck, who was settling the ponies in for the night, looked at his friend and shook his head.  
  
"Of course it is, my dear, idiotic Took! When the Elves boarded the ship at the Grey Havens, the Third Age officially ended! Didn't you listen when Gandalf talked? Or Frodo, for that matter?"  
  
"My dear Merry," Peregrin Took, Pippin to his friends, retorted. "Of course I was listening. Yes, it's all well and good that the Third Age came to an end, but that wasn't what I meant!"  
  
The last of the travelers had remained silent throughout this exchange. Now he stepped forward a bit diffidently. He clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.  
  
"I sees what you mean, Mister Pippin," he said quietly.  
  
"Here, now, Sam!" Pippin chided. "Imagine! After all we've been through together, calling me 'Mister'!"  
  
"The very idea!" Merry added in a tone of disgust. "One of the ring- bearers, who carried the One Ring! Standing on ceremony with simple messengers like us! Honestly, Sam, we're going to have to speak with Mistress Rose!"  
  
Samwise Gamgee, who had 'done for' the Baggins family his entire life, but had great events thrust, all-unwillingly on his humble self, blushed to the roots of his curly brown hair.  
  
"And what would Lady Galadriel, who's presents to you made the entire Shire bloom again, say to such nonsense?"  
  
Sam had the grace to look sheepish, but replied with great dignity. "That wonderful Lady would tell a simple gardener like myself to remember where I come from."  
  
Merry snorted derisively, but Pippin chimed in.  
  
"And the Gaffer?" Pippin teased.  
  
"He'd tell me to remember that I'm no better than I ought to be, begging your pardon, Master Peregrin!"  
  
The three friends laughed. It was an old joke among them, and little by little they were getting Sam to leave off the formalities. In the reckoning of the Great, they constantly reminded him, his achievements were of heroic proportions while theirs barely rated a mention.  
  
They had been setting up camp while they teased Sam and were ready now to start a fire and prepare a humble (for a hobbit) supper. All hobbits could cook; they learned as youngsters. In a race where food was the cornerstone of the culture, a basic knowledge of cooking was imperative and most hobbits were rather good at it. Samwise, however, was an artist compared to the other two, and the duties of food preparation fell to him. In a surprisingly short time, he had a savory stew bubbling in the pot from his weskit and even surprised them with sweet oat loaves from deep in his supply packets. With the bit of butter he had left, and a sweet plum jelly his wife Rose had sent along, they would do nicely for a 'camp meal'. The chores of cleaning, searching for firewood and the fetching of water were left to the two younger hobbits. When they smelled the aroma of the rich stew, however, they decided not to complain. With the chores done and supper well on the way, Pippin and Merry reclined on their bedrolls and pulled out pipes and tobacco while Sam stood and stretched his muscles. The ponies munched contentedly on the rich, green grass growing along the path, and Pippin picked up his conversation.  
  
"As I was saying before this oaf of a Brandybuck interrupted me, with old Bilbo and Frodo gone, it feels like something has gone out of the Shire."  
  
"I've been feeling it, too, Mis-er, Pippin," Sam agreed. "It feels like we're like a ship without a rudder, so to speak! I was telling Rosie, just last month, that the old Fellowship seems to be drifting apart."  
  
"You know, Sam," Merry said, looking surprised. "You're right! Even though Pippin and I are only over at Crickhollow, its months since last we saw you and Frodo!"  
  
Pippin nodded. "But just knowing Frodo was still up there at Bag End, and dear old Bilbo was away with Elrond was comforting. And now with Frodo and Bilbo gone, and old Gandalf, too, it's only the three of us to remember the Fellowship and the great things we were part of!"  
  
They sat, thoughtful, considering what it meant. Even though Pippin was a messenger of the king of Gondor and Merry served the king of the Mark, without Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf, what reason would King Elessar (they still thought of him as Strider), have to continue relations with the Shire? Or less so, King Eomer, for that matter. Merry looked sadly down at his bright mail shirt and the uniform of Rohan, which he always wore. What none of them seemed to realize was just what an impact they all had had on the great events that took place in the south. They would find out, though.  
  
Pippin shifted restlessly and relit his pipe, which had gone out. He was about to settle back when he jumped up and cried, "What we want, my dear hobbits, is an adventure!"  
  
Merry and Sam stared at the youngest hobbit for a few amazed moments, but then Sam shook his head.  
  
"No, adventure is for you youngsters. Rose is waiting, and I wouldn't have the time, what, with the harvest and all."  
  
"Come, Sam, you're all of two years older than I am!" Merry teased. "Don't pretend you're in your doddering old age, just yet. We know you, Master Samwise! Adventure for you is crossing the Brandywine once a month to gossip with fat old Barliman down Bree way! So, even though you use Mistress Rose shamefully as an excuse, you will have to do better than that."  
  
He looked at Pippin. "What did you have in mind, my dear Took?"  
  
Pippin grinned and tapped out his pipe. Replacing it in its pouch, he pulled a folded paper from under the mail shirt that he still wore, although he hadn't seen Gondor for over two years. Unfolding the paper, he smoothed it on the ground for Merry to see. Sam stirred the savory concoction that was bubbling over the fire, replaced the lid, and hurried back to see what Pippin was doing. Although he didn't really like adventure, he loved the tales, songs and stories that inevitably accompanied one.  
  
"This is a map of the North Farthing and the country to the north of it!" he said excitedly. "See this stretch of woods here, at Bindbole?"  
  
Pippin tapped the bottom of the map, then traced a line on the map that read 'Oatbarton'.  
  
"I'm familiar with the geography of the Shire, Pippin," Merry said patiently. "What I'd like to know is why you think traveling in the North Farthing would be an adventure?"  
  
Sam remained silent, waiting. If the young rascal Pippin said there was adventure to be had in the North Farthing, there must be something there.  
  
"We-ell," Pippin drawled importantly, "I have a mission to perform for the Took! We have some family, the north Tooks of Long Cleeve, up in the North Farthing. They've been out of touch for some time, and the Took wants me to venture up that way and find out how they're faring. Too far away to be on the normal postal route, you know."  
  
Merry considered while Sam gave a sigh of disgust. That didn't sound much like adventure, after all. He turned back to tend the supper.  
  
"At the risk of being repetitive, just why is traveling north, even as far as Long Cleeve, adventurous?" Merry inquired politely.  
  
"Just this," Pippin said brightly. "As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, see the Bindbole Wood here?"  
  
Merry nodded.  
  
"Well, remember our promise to Treebeard? To keep an eye out for the Entwives? Well, I was poking around the old histories in the Great Smials a while back and found a thin volume that referred to the 'tree shepherdesses'!"  
  
"No!" Merry said excitedly. "What else did it say?"  
  
Pippin frowned. "Actually, it didn't say much else. It was a history of the North Farthing written by some ancient Took whose writing was atrocious! He was telling about the settling of the North Farthing, almost as far as the Lake Hills. You know, what they called Annuminas on the old maps."  
  
Merry looked slightly vague at this, but Sam jumped up and hurried back to them. He didn't like adventure, but he loved maps.  
  
"Annuminas!?" he cried, surprised out of his usual deferential manner. "You mean up by Lake Evendim? Near the North Downs?"  
  
Pippin gave Sam a big smile. "That's exactly where I mean. The wood is small, but it stretches almost all the way up to the hills and that's where the Tooks settled. I figured once I checked in with my relations, we could explore the wood a bit, see if there was any sign of the Entwives."  
  
Sam was frowning. Now what did that remind him of? A pub, a conversation some time ago with that little grubber Ted Sandyman, he was sure.  
  
"Here! I remember!" he shouted suddenly.  
  
Pippin and Merry stared at Sam. He had jumped forward and was standing over them with a look of intense concentration.  
  
"Sam! What is it?" Merry asked, concerned.  
  
"I remember! I was telling the story to Ted Sandyman afore Mr. Frodo and me left! Now it makes sense!"  
  
Pippin stood and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sit down, my dear hobbit! You look like you've run all the way from Bywater! Now, tell us what you're talking about!"  
  
Sam sat heavily.  
  
"It always bothered me when you and Merry talked about the Ent folk, and now I know why! It must of been almost three years ago, now. My cousin Hal, who works up Overhill way was telling me what he saw on the North Moors when he was off hunting. And I told Ted Sandyman in the Green Dragon. See?"  
  
Pippin and Merry exchanged looks. They had no idea what Sam was talking about.  
  
"Actually, Sam, no, we don't see." Merry gave Sam a grin and added, "But I'm sure we will. What did Hal see that you told Sandyman about?"  
  
"And what does it have to do with Ents?" Pippin asked.  
  
"Didn't I ever tell you? Hal said he saw one of them 'Tree-men' a-walking along. Said it was bigger than the other trees and looked like an elm. Said it paid him no mind, just 'hallooed' with its big hands and walked off. Our Hal was proper upset by it, but he never was one to tell a tall tale. If he says he saw a 'tree-man' that's what he saw!"  
  
Sam gave them a stubborn look, almost as though daring them to contradict him. But Pippin and Merry were the last hobbits to accuse anyone of spinning yarns about 'tree-men'. They knew Ents existed, and were personally acquainted with several. They had even drunk of the special 'Ent-draught' that helped the Ents stay supple and healthy. That accounted for much of their unusual (for hobbits) height.  
  
Pippin smiled happily at Sam. "That's wonderful! I only wish you would have told us sooner! Imagine! Ents, here in the Shire! What will Treebeard say?"  
  
"What will he say, indeed?" mused Merry. "First, Pippin, we must find them! Remember that with the passing of the rings, much that was will fade away. I believe that Treebeard and his kind were nothing related to the Elven powers, but it would be best to look quickly!"  
  
Sam watched the two younger hobbits with a bit of regret. He was not descended from any of the adventurous branches of the hobbit families, but his year spent with the Fellowship had made him more open-minded. Maybe a small quest wouldn't be a bad thing. A vision of Rose and their new daughter, Elanor, flashed in front of his eyes. It was tempting, but he wanted more than anything to be home with his family.  
  
"Well, Pippin," he said regretfully. "It sounds like a fine adventure, but, as I said before, Rose is waiting, along with Elanor."  
  
Merry and Pippin smiled at Sam. They suspected he would find some excuse, and this was as good as any.  
  
"Well, Sam, since you mention Elanor, as well, I suppose we'll have to forgive you for deserting us this time," Merry told him.  
  
"But," Pippin added, "if anything exciting happens, you'll have to make a tale of it for your book."  
  
Pippin was referring to the book that Bilbo had begun years ago when he'd ventured with thirteen dwarves and a magician to the Lonely Mountain, faced a dragon, fought in the Battle of the Five Armies and lived to tell it. Bilbo had given the book to Frodo after adding many tales he'd translated when in Rivendell, as well as beginning the saga of the War of the Rings. They all knew that Frodo had passed the book on to Sam to continue to chronicle the further activities of the remainder of the Fellowship they'd become a part of.  
  
Sam brightened considerably at this.  
  
"You can be sure I will. Just make sure you bring back some local tales and songs, too!"  
  
Merry laughed as Pippin folded up the map again and tucked it away safely.  
  
"I will, but don't be upset if the tales are the same as we hear here," he replied mildly. "It is, after all, still the Shire."  
  
Sam returned to the stew pot and mumbled something about 'those foreigners up north', while Merry leaned to Pippin.  
  
"Seriously, Pippin," he said quietly. "Why this sudden need for adventure? Is there more?"  
  
"No-oo," Pippin said uncertainly. "Its just that I feel a bit, well, restless, you know? As though things are happening without us! Not that I would want to be gone a year, again, but a nice bit of a small adventure might be just what's needed. And with what Sam told us, it won't be a wasted trip!"  
  
Merry nodded and tucked his own pipe away. He had been feeling the same thing; the need to move about, to go somewhere farther than a night's journey from their nice little home in Crickhollow. Coming to see Frodo and Bilbo off had been good, but he also wanted something more. Wandering through the fairly tame forest of Bindbole Wood sounded like just the ticket. Especially if they found Ents! 


	2. Preparation

Chapter 2  
  
Merry and Pippin waved wildly at Sam, who had turned off at Bywater and was now heading toward Hobbiton and the Hill. They had risen early, but had idled on the way. Sam seemed thoughtful, and Merry and Pippin quietly respected his silence. Pippin had been thinking the night before about Sam and his responsibilities as a husband and father. Pippin suspected that Sam's days of journeying were over. The ponies plodded slowly down the East Road, and their riders did little to hurry them. The sun was almost overhead when they finally reached the fork in the road. To continue would take them to Frogmorton and Whitfurrows, eventually over the Brandywine River to Buckland. To turn north would take them past Bywater, into Hobbiton and on to Bag End. Sam even invited them to come with him. But there were things to do and they had to make ready for their trip.  
  
"Are you sure?" Sam asked once more. "Rosie would be happy to see you. And you've not seen little Elanor since she was born!"  
  
Merry laughed. "Mistress Rose would be wonderful and welcoming, and she would give you a proper dressing down as soon as we left for not giving her more notice."  
  
"Look for us in a few days," Pippin promised. "We'll stop in for a quick visit before heading up north. And we'll bring a present for little Elanor."  
  
As Sam turned away, Merry and Pippin began to sing. They were going on a quest. They would go to Crickhollow and close up the house for a short time. Fatty Bolger would probably look in on the house from time to time, if they asked. But they did need to plan and pack.  
  
They nodded and waved to friends and acquaintances, indifferent to or unaware of the looks of admiration that shone in the eyes of more than one hobbit maiden. That they made striking figures, taller than most hobbits, mounted on large ponies, and garbed in the livery of Gondor and Rohan, wasn't really important to the two young hobbits. They reveled in the company of the other, and now they were starting another journey! The miles passed quickly but being October, it was nearly nightfall when they finally reached the small house in Crickhollow that Frodo had purchased two years ago. He'd done so to hide his departure from the Shire, but had never lived there. Instead he had given it to his young cousins for their use.  
  
The little house was dark, with the windows shuttered against the cold of the season, but as they dismounted, the door swung open.  
  
"Ah, here you are! Back and none too soon, either!" Fredegar Bolger, still thin for a hobbit from his time spent in the Lockholes, was standing at the door and looking up at them with an expectant smile.  
  
"Fatty! Whatever are you doing here? Is anything amiss?" Merry asked, handing his reins to Pippin and moving to clasp Fredegar's hands warmly.  
  
Fredegar shook his head, but didn't answer Merry's question when Pippin called, " Wait 'til I get back! I want to hear, too!"  
  
Pippin led the ponies to their small stable around back to remove their saddles and rub them down. It would take some time, so Merry and Fredegar entered the long, low house, closing the round door against the coming night. A large fire burned in the main hearth and luscious smells drifted from the kitchen.  
  
"If you want to clean up, I'll just see to the supper," Fredegar told Merry as they neared the kitchen. "I'll send Pippin in to bathe when he comes in."  
  
Merry nodded and headed eagerly to the bathing room. The room was large; easily large enough to accommodate four hobbit-sized tubs, although right now there were only two. Both tubs were brimming with hot water, while more water simmered gently over the low fire in the grate. Soft, plush towels were piled on a bench against the wall, and Merry noted with delight that his favorite dressing gown had been hung on a peg near the door. It was warm and welcoming and just what was needed after almost a fortnight on the road. Hobbits were tough and doughty at need, but it could never be said that they didn't enjoy the simpler delights in life, such as good food, conversation, and a wonderful bath at day's end.  
  
Merry had a leisurely bath and changed into his dressing gown. Pippin had entered midway through Merry's bath and was trying to catch him up, so he decided to wait. Both hobbits emerged, clean, relaxed and comfortable, just as Fredegar called them to supper. As they ate in the cozy kitchen, Fredegar plied them with questions about Bilbo and Gandalf and all the fair folk they'd seen. He asked after Frodo, as well. They all knew that the loss of the One Ring, along with the various other hurts Frodo had received, took its toll on his health. But now, it seemed, he would be able to be at peace. Pippin volunteered to wash up, while Merry and Fatty took care of the mess they'd left in the bathroom.  
  
When all was clean and tidy once again, the hobbits settled themselves around the fire. Fredegar brought out three tankards of cool ale, which they sipped with relish. The ale was of the 1420 vintage, and thought to be the best ever. It was from one of many barrels which Pippin and Merry had put up. Known as the Great Year of Plenty, 1420 had produced some of the best ale, pipe-weed, crops, and even the most newborns in memory. It had been, a wonderful year especially after the destruction caused by Saruman in the previous year. Taking another healthy sip of his ale, Merry fixed Fredegar with a curious look and finally asked what was in all their minds.  
  
"So, Fatty, what are you doing here? I thought you were away in the South Farthing for another week."  
  
Fredegar took a long pull from his tankard, and set it aside with a smile of satisfaction. "Ah, that's proper 1420, and no doubt of it!" he said contentedly. "I was in the South Farthing and would be still, but for a letter I was to deliver. In person."  
  
Merry and Pippin sat forward eagerly.  
  
"A letter? But why not just use the post?"  
  
"From who?"  
  
Fredegar made a show of digging into his pocket. He withdrew a note, folded and sealed with a large disk of wax. Merry reached for it, but Pippin was there first, tugging it from Fredegar's hand and examining the seal.  
  
"An Elf rune, that's certain," he said, passing the note to Merry.  
  
"You're right, Pip, it's the elvish letter 'G'."  
  
They looked at each other and said together, "Gandalf!"  
  
Fredegar chuckled. "He found me a fortnight ago and told me I was to be here on the seventh of October to present that to you two. He said you two might hare off to the North Farthing early if I didn't get that to you. You're going to the North Farthing?"  
  
Pippin whistled, but Merry merely shook his head. "I don't know how he does it! Must have given you this just before he stopped to tell us that Frodo was leaving. Why didn't he just give it to us himself?"  
  
"We didn't know we were going, or at least Merry didn't know, until last night. How Gandalf knew is anyone's guess. Come on, Merry, open it."  
  
The other two hobbits leaned forward as Merry broke the seal. Unfolding the note, he read aloud the following:  
  
"My Dear Hobbits, I am sure this note finds you in good spirits. You will now be sitting, unless I miss my guess, in front of your comfortable fire, the inestimable Mr. Bolger at your side, and wondering what you're going to do for excitement now. You will also be wondering how I knew of your journey to the North Farthing, no doubt. I know, young Peregrin, that the Took has asked you to travel to the North Farthing and that you will do so soon. And I think I know the inquisitiveness of young hobbits enough to know that had I mentioned it to you, I should have been delayed hours, if not days, in the answering of all your questions. Therefore, I chose to leave this note for your return to Crickhollow. I am in hopes that you can convince Merry to accompany you in your journey. I also suggest that before you depart, you visit Sam's cousin, Halfast. He might have an interesting story to pass along to you concerning the Ents, or 'Tree-men' as he would call them. My visit with old Bombadil led me to believe that your search might not be in vain, but I would caution you against entering the Old Forest as he says the Onodrim have not resided there in many lives of men. I do not think that Sam will choose to accompany you, as he has different responsibilities now. Do ensure, however, that you include details of your tale for him so he may write them down in the book Frodo left him. I feel certain that you will have many an interesting tale to tell when all is done. Although many of your friends (and I flatter myself to include myself in so exalted a group) are now gone, passed away over the sea, be assured that you will all be often in our thoughts, as I hope we are in yours. I see many great things in your futures; sorrows and joys and triumphs. Take each as it comes, and look to your friends, your companions for strength and counsel in times of need. Remember also that although you may feel your service to your kings is at an end, be assured that they think often of their 'Periannath' and 'Holdwine'. You have pledged your lives in the service of your kings and they will not forget you. You were all part of many great events, which have changed you all to some extent All that you do and have done only prepares you to better meet the destiny that has been chosen for you long ago. Accept your destiny, be of good cheer, and remember us! May you fare well, wherever you fare.  
  
Gandalf"  
  
Merry's voice stopped suddenly, and all three hobbits stared into the fire for a few minutes. Merry finally folded the note again, and tucked it away in his breast pocket.  
  
"How does he do that!?" Pippin ventured after a moment. "How did he know about the Took? I only found out just before we left to see Frodo off!"  
  
Fredegar remained silent, but Merry's eyes sparkled as he gazed into the fire. "Not as close as he was used to be, eh, Pip? Closer and more mysterious, I'd say. Huh, our 'destinies'." Merry looked thoughtfully at Pippin, then said, "I'll miss him, though."  
  
"He could be daunting and frightening at times, but I'll miss him too," Pippin said with a yawn. He looked at Merry and Fredegar and saw that they looked tired as well. The hobbits decided not to dwell on the mystery of Gandalf's letter that night. They were fatigued with almost two weeks of riding and lulled by a hearty supper and a warm fire. Pippin was already yawning and Merry's eyes were scratchy with sleep.  
  
"A most interesting puzzle, I admit," Merry said finally, seeming to have startled both Pippin and Fredegar out of a light doze. "But one for the road. I'm for bed."  
  
"And I!" Pippin agreed. "Fatty, you'll sleep here, of course?"  
  
Fredegar stood and stretched. He gazed longingly at the warm fire, but shook his head. "No, I'm for home. Its not that far."  
  
The hobbits saw their friend out, locked up and went to bed. Although he was tired to the bone, Pippin couldn't sleep immediately.  
  
"You're out of shape, old chap," Pippin thought to himself. "On the road for barely a fortnight and exhausted already. Good thing you're going on a long tramp, just to keep yourself in shape!"  
  
The sound of Merry's slow, rhythmic breathing was annoying since Pippin couldn't sleep, himself. Finally, he slipped quietly from his bed and donned his dressing gown. Carefully taking up a candle and lighting it in the low flames of their bedroom fireplace, he wandered to the drawing room. It was here that he and Merry kept their journals, maps, letters and papers. Setting the candle on the large desk, Pippin pulled a large, rolled map of the Shire from a basket on the floor. The basket held at least a dozen maps of Middle Earth, Gondor, Rohan, Esgaroth, and other places, as well as maps of Bree and each of the four sections of the Shire. He smoothed the map he held onto the surface of the desk, pinning the corners with paperweights. He then studied the North Farthing again. It would be easy to get there on pony-back, even with stopping at Bag End first. They could easily walk the open fields north of the Hill, keeping the river on the east until they came to Bindbole Wood. Then they could cut northeast toward Needlehole, and up to the North Downs. Long Cleeve was located in a fold of land at the southern point of the hills named Annuminas. In fact, Long Cleeve was a bare five or six leagues from the border of what was recognized as the Shire. Once there, Pippin could find his non-corresponding relations. After he'd looked in on the North-tooks, he and Merry would be free to explore the Wood. Pippin ran his fingers through his dark curls, still marveling at how thick his hair had become after a few days of subsisting on nothing but lembas and Ent-draught. Try as he might, Pippin couldn't remember a single one of his North-took relatives, although he had met them when he was in his teens. He yawned and stretched, and then rolled the map again. Extinguishing the candle he'd brought in with him, Pippin stumbled back to his bed. Without bothering to remove his dressing gown, he flopped onto his bed and this time fell quickly asleep.  
  
Merry slept soundly, but Pippin's dreams were strange. He dreamed that he was back in Fangorn, but in the future, not the past. He was searching for Treebeard or Quickbeam or any of the other Ents, but they seemed to have disappeared. He was in great need, he knew that, but couldn't quite remember what was needed. He had something of great importance to tell them. He continued to search, stumbling through abandoned Ent homes, but found nothing of his old friends. He finally fell, weeping, among a large grove of dark old trees with gnarled branches. He heard the harsh whispers of the trees, Huorns he guessed, and could feel their branches reaching for him.  
  
Pippin shot straight up, covered with sweat and panting as though he'd been running miles! He looked around the cozy bedroom and saw Merry sleeping peacefully in his bed a few feet away. Pippin shivered as a draft brushed his damp skin. He lay back and tugged the blankets up to his ears, trying to shake off the last dregs of the dream. Huorns! He shuddered again as he remembered the troop of trees, row after row of them, which had taken up position outside Isengard. When Isengard had emptied its armies, Pippin could feel the tension, the hostility and hate, vibrating from the deadly forest. They had followed the armies south, and had destroyed most of the Orcs in the Battle of Helm's Deep. He remembered Merry telling Strider- King Elessar, he corrected himself, that he would not want to meet up with Huorns without a true Ent about. Pippin felt the same way. He didn't even want to dream about them.  
  
When they had been on their journey with Frodo, Sam and the rest of the Fellowship, Pippin had had strange dreams, especially in Tom Bombadil's house. His dreams were of things that had happened or that did happen later. This made tonight's dream even more frightening. But, after careful consideration he shrugged it off. There was little chance that he would ever venture into Fangorn alone, and less that if he did he would be unable to find at least one Ent. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he snuggled into his blankets and was again fast asleep.  
  
Pippin woke the following morning to the delightful aroma of eggs and bacon. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered briefly what time it was. Just then, Merry stuck his head in the room.  
  
"Pippin! Finally! I thought you were going to sleep the day away. Its already nine o'clock and I'm working on a midmorning snack for myself. Are you having breakfast, or shall I finish it myself?"  
  
Pippin needed no other encouragement. "Half a moment," he cried, jumping out of bed and barely registering that he was still wearing slippers and his dressing gown. Merry raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He merely nodded and disappeared. Pippin hurried to the bathroom and rinsed his face in cold water. He felt as though he hadn't slept well, but couldn't remember why. He must have had a bad dream. Drying his face and hands, he returned to his bedroom and changed into soft, black breeches, a linen shirt and a warm, quilted waistcoat, noting that Merry had been casually dressed, too. He would decide on his wardrobe for the trip after breakfast.  
  
Merry was just buttering some toasted bread as Pippin entered the kitchen. "What can I do to help," he asked.  
  
"Mmmm, would you get the teapot and cups out? And some of those berry preserves Mistress Rose gave us? And unless I miss my guess, we should set a place for one more. I have a feeling Fatty will be joining us soon."  
  
Pippin laughed and agreed. Fredegar Bolger didn't have an adventurous bone in his body, for all that he led a group of rebels when ruffians tried to take over the Shire two years ago. But he, much like Sam, loved to hear tales of adventure, and was never happier when he was helping plan this escapade or that, even if he didn't participate.  
  
The tea was steeping in the teapot and Merry was just sliding the eggs onto three plates when they heard a jolly tune being whistled outside the kitchen window. The whistling continued toward the back of the house and a moment later, Fredegar was hallooing from the back door.  
  
Pippin called for him to come in and within minutes the three hobbits were settled down to a modest breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, porridge, tea and preserves. There was a general silence save the sound of forks and knives busily at work. When the initial edge of their hunger was taken off, though, Merry pushed himself back a bit and looked keenly at his cousin. Pippin looked back with a frown.  
  
His fork paused as he asked, "What is it Merry? Have I got egg on my face?"  
  
"No, not at all. I was just wondering about your dreams last night? You seemed to be having some bad ones."  
  
Pippin shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen and his friends smiling kindly at him. Looking down hastily he mumbled, "I don't remember."  
  
He wondered if Merry would try to find out more, but Pippin honestly DIDN'T remember. He just remembered that it was bad. Merry nodded and continued to eat. Fredegar began talking about his cousin Tolwin and his nightmares, and the rest of the meal passed quickly. After washing up, the hobbits filed into the drawing room to plan the trip. They would plan today and leave early the next morning. Pippin penned a quick note to Sam, asking him to meet them at the Green Dragon at about noon, and to bring his cousin Hal with him, if possible. Fredegar took it out to the post box and returned quickly.  
  
"Well, then, if we're visiting the North-tooks first," Merry was saying, tracing the map, "perhaps we should go 'round by Needlehole and north from there, first, then come back across the moors to Bindbole."  
  
Pippin nodded. "Although, it IS getting cold up there. I wish the Took would have thought of this two months ago."  
  
"Not to worry, Pippin, my lad," Merry said cheerfully. "We've been in worse places than the North Farthing in the fall, right?"  
  
Pippin nodded again, and turned to Fredegar. "Are you coming with us, Fatty? Just think of the adventure you missed last time!"  
  
Fredegar gave Pippin a look of comic horror. "What? And have shadow men chasing me? Or were you speaking of the leisurely stroll you all had through those mines?" He shivered theatrically. "No, you can keep your adventure, Master Periannath! Just bring the tales home with you!"  
  
Merry and Pippin laughed. Of course the tales they'd brought from their journey were well known (though few believed more than half of what they'd done and even fewer understood the importance of the events they'd had a hand in bringing about). But Fredegar would have been surprised to know that he was actually named in the 'Red Book', which was what Frodo and Sam had taken to calling the thick, red-bound volume that Bilbo had begun and passed on to Frodo. In fact, before handing the book in his turn on to Sam, Frodo had not only told of Fatty's help with the Crickhollow incident, but had even mentioned his bravery in resisting the ruffians during the oppression of 1419.  
  
"Very well, Master Fredegar," Pippin said loftily. "You, too, are forgiven this quest. But you will come with us to Bywater, tomorrow, won't you?"  
  
"Of course!" he answered. He knew he would be hearing about the 'tree-men' from the only hobbit (besides Pippin, Merry and Sam, that is) who actually claimed to have seen one. Besides, the 'Travellers' had seen their tree- men away south, and that didn't really count as it hadn't happened in the Shire.  
  
Pippin and Merry finalized their travel arrangements and set aside a few smaller rolled maps, these of Long Cleeve and the surrounding downs, and of the known areas of Bindbole. This wasn't very much, even though Bindbole was a small wood. It was just that few hobbits ventured farther than the eaves of the wood before scampering back out, unable to say exactly why. Merry and Pippin both felt, though, that after dealing with Orcs, experiencing the terror of the Nazgul, and conversing with real Ents, there was little in the sheltered Shire to fear.  
  
"Except perhaps finding the Inns along the way closed!" Fredegar said with a smile. "Well, I will leave you two to your packing. Do you ride or walk tomorrow?"  
  
"We'll ride to Bywater, and leave the ponies with Sam. They get on quite well with his Bill, you know." They had decided that they would then walk from Bag End, despite the cold weather. As Merry said, their belts could do with a bit of tightening. Besides, it would be more satisfying to their sense of adventure and would make it last a bit longer.  
  
"Well, then, I'll ride with you to the Dragon. What time do we leave?"  
  
After a brief consultation, they agreed that ten o'clock would serve very well for all of them. They would make good time to Bywater on ponies, so it wouldn't be necessary to leave earlier. Fredegar took his leave and the cousins turned to their packing.  
  
They didn't need to bother with food just yet. They could purchase provisions along the way since they weren't leaving the Shire. And since Pippin was representing the Took, they would stay at an inn in Long Cleeve so he would be presentable. If necessary, they could both hunt for food, but it was unlikely that they would need to. The most difficult task seemed to be choosing what to wear. Both Pippin and Merry were used to wearing the uniforms of Gondor and Rohan, along with their swords, shields and mail shirts. Even though they doubted the kings remembered their oaths of service, they took them very seriously. But the garb was impractical for what they had in mind. Indeed, warm woolen breeches with woven shirts and quilted waistcoats, along with their Elven cloaks were much more practical. After some consideration, the hobbits decided to carry their swords and wear the mail under their shirts, but they would pack their uniforms to wear only when presenting themselves to the patriarch in Long Cleeve. That decided, and warm clothing packed, they moved on to the more practical matter of pipe weed, pocket-handkerchiefs, and money. When they finished, each hobbit had a large, overstuffed haversack. Pippin tried to heave his onto his back, but it was quite a struggle.  
  
"You're out of shape, old chap," Merry teased, reaching out to drag the pack off of Pippin's back. He nearly dropped it and looked at Pippin with surprise. "What have you got in there?" he asked.  
  
Pippin looked rather sheepish as he hoisted the pack onto his bed and emptied it out. Besides his clothing and necessities were several jars of preserves, two large, wrapped bread loaves, a fragrant cheese wheel, plates, knives, forks, and a large, dried sausage!  
  
"My dear Pippin! We're not going into Wilderland!" Merry exclaimed, laughing. "We're taking a tame bit of a walk up to the North Farthing!"  
  
"Yes," Pippin agreed, "but this was just in case we got a bit hungry on the way!"  
  
Merry finally talked Pippin into leaving everything, reasoning that they had to have SOMETHING to eat tonight and for breakfast, didn't they? They spent the remainder of the day writing letters to family to let them know where the young hobbits might be found for the next few weeks. They had tea in the drawing room while deciding whether to take even more maps or not, and finally finished writing just in time for supper. Hobbits, of course, were almost as devoted to writing acquaintances and family as they were to food. They received a note from Sam by return post that tomorrow would be fine and that Hal would be glad to be there. Mistress Rose sent her regards, as well, and was looking forward to having them visit and stay the night. After supper and a bath, Pippin retired early. He was still fatigued from his broken sleep of the night before.  
  
The next morning broke gray and drear, with a steady drizzle coming down in a fine mist that promised to chill to the bone. Pippin had not had another strange dream; in fact, he had slept soundly all night. After a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, fried potatoes, tea and toast, Merry and Pippin cleaned the few dishes. They went to their bedroom to gather their supplies and Pippin looked at himself in the mirror. He felt awkward without his uniform, hauberk, and shield, but they were just not practical for this trip. Merry chuckled.  
  
"I know, Pippin. I feel uncomfortable, myself." Merry looked down at his outfit and was still a bit surprised not to see the green and white of Rohan.  
  
Pippin took a last look at his soft, black breeches, the warm linen shirt and the thick cotton waistcoat. Pulling a face, he donned his cloak and fastened the green brooch, feeling somewhat better. Then he strapped on his sword and hefted his pack. "Come, cousin, time is wasting!"  
  
The hobbits made sure the house was locked, mounted up, and turned their ponies north. 


	3. What Master Halfast Saw

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the estate of the brilliant J. R. R. Tolkein, his heirs, etc. Again, there are no OC's as yet; all references come from either LOTR, TH, or The Silmarillion. Location of Long Cleeve and the geography of the North Farthing in later chapters is purely my guesswork and imagination.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Fredegar was waiting on the road outside the snug little house he share with his sister as Pippin and Merry rode up. "Filthy weather for the start of a journey," he muttered. His cloak and hood weren't of Elven-make, as Merry and Pippin's were, and he already looked cold, wet and miserable. He had his coat buttoned all the way up and a knitted wool scarf wrapped tightly about his neck. Thick wool gloves covered his hands. Merry stifled a laugh and glanced behind Fredegar. A small, pretty Hobbit-maid of perhaps thirty-five years was standing in the doorway, watching. Merry smiled at her and bowed low in his saddle, tipping his hood to her.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Estella," he said gallantly.  
  
Miss Estella Bolger's plump cheeks turned bright red, and her dark brown eyes sparkled as she dropped him a small curtsey. Pippin had also bowed to her, but she barely noticed it. Gathering her knitted shawl about her, she carried a small box over to Fatty.  
  
"Freddy, you forgot to give this to Captain Meriadoc." Fredegar's sister was the only Hobbit in the Shire who actually called Fredegar by his name. She was also one of the few who referred to Pippin and Merry's ranks in the local Hobbitry-in-arms. She had spoken softly, stealing quick glances at Merry. "It's the blanket I knitted for him to give to little Elanor."  
  
Fredegar gave his sister an annoyed look. "Well, Stella, why give it to me, then? Merry's more than able to carry his own present!"  
  
Miss Estella blushed even more, but she was composed when she turned to Merry. He dismounted immediately, no small feat with a laden haversack on his back and his pony eager to get moving. He handed the reins to Fatty and moved to take Miss Estella's package from her. Pippin pretended not to notice that he took her hands, as well, looking down on the small Hobbit maiden with smiling eyes. Fatty noticed, though, and gave a disgusted snort.  
  
"Come on, Stella. You're making us late! Just give Merry the box and let us be off!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain Meriadoc, for causing you delay," she said quietly.  
  
Merry reassured her quickly. "A most welcome delay, I assure you! But it is quite cold out here, and I wouldn't want you to catch a chill. Can I see you to your door?"  
  
Fatty had had enough. "It's only a few feet, Merry! I'm sure that if Stella spent the last thirty-six years getting herself in and out of the door, she can do it again today!"  
  
He might as well have been speaking to himself. Merry had taken Miss Estella's arm and was courteously escorting her back to the door of the little house. As soon as the door closed, he hurried back and mounted up again. Pippin was grinning from ear to ear, but only just managed not to sing out a teasing song in which Estella's and Merry's names would be prominently featured, along with sitting in trees and kissing. Fredegar was prone to be bad-tempered for the next few minutes, grumbling about certain persons making calf's eyes at one another. They spurred their ponies onward, Merry quickening the pace. He ignored the teasing looks from Pippin and the grumbling from Fatty, and by the time they reached the Brandywine Bridge, they were in accord with one another again.  
  
"Of course, I brought my own present for baby Elanor," Pippin was now saying, as their ponies clip-clopped across the bridge. "I just kept forgetting to send it on. She won't have much use of it for years, but if she's anything like her Uncle Frodo, she will use it eventually."  
  
"Well, what is it?" asked Merry, still gazing occasionally at the festively wrapped parcel he had stuffed under his cloak to protect it from the rain.  
  
"It's a volume of blank pages. I would guess that by the time she learns her letters well and starts writing, old Sam will be happy to have someone take over the archives. You know he never was much for book work."  
  
Merry nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know exactly what Miss Estella knitted, but it's sure to be just right," he mused.  
  
"What is this 'Miss Estella'?" Fredegar demanded. "I remember when she was just plain old Stella to you, Merry. Or even, 'that pesky sister' of mine. Have you taken a fancy to my sister all of a sudden?"  
  
Merry remained quiet, though a smile teased his mouth. Pippin, however, laughed heartily. "All of a sudden? My dear Fatty, our Merry has fancied your sister for some months now."  
  
Fredegar's mouth dropped open. "Months? But-but, why haven't I heard of it?"  
  
Merry slowed a bit. "You have now, my friend. And you shall hear more after this 'adventure' of Pippin's is over. But for now, we have quite enough on our plates, don't you think?"  
  
This time Pippin didn't bother to hide his laughter. He looked from Merry's mildly amused expression to Fredegar's look of consternation and laughed out loud.  
  
"Well, I never," Fatty mumbled under his breath. "Merry and m'sister, Stella! Who'd have thought?"  
  
They rode along in silence for some time, each with his own thoughts. After a while, though, Pippin spoke up. "Well, Master Meriadoc. You said the riddle of Gandalf's letter would wait for the road, and we're on the road. What do you make of it?"  
  
"You know, I was just thinking of that, too. I--," Merry began, but Fredegar broke in.  
  
"I can tell you a bit of it," he said.  
  
Pippin and Merry turned to him, listening. "When Gandalf found me, he said he'd just come from seeing the Took himself. Said he had a feeling you'd decide to set out immediately you returned, so he wrote his letter and left it for me to deliver. I asked him why he didn't just give it to you since he would be seeing you soon. He said that he had only a short time left here and he didn't want to be delayed by 'typical Hobbit inquisitiveness'."  
  
Merry chuckled, but Pippin thought about that for a moment. "Well, that certainly explains how he knew about our trip. I suppose he knew we'd take the opportunity to do a bit of exploring, too, since we've not had the chance yet."  
  
"Yes, but how did he know about Sam's Hal? That's the question. And why didn't Sam ever mention that story before?" Merry shrugged. "Some things I guess we'll never know."  
  
"What did he mean about yours and Pippin's destiny?" Fredegar asked suddenly.  
  
Pippin shook his head and looked at Merry. "Do you think he means that King Elessar and King Eomer are going to call us back south? Could that be it?"  
  
Merry was very thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know, Pippin, but I don't really think so. Gandalf spoke of our experiences preparing us for something. I doubt we'd really be needed to supplement the armies of Gondor and the Mark, don't you? I get the feeling he was talking about something closer to home. Perhaps creating a home town militia or something of the sort."  
  
"No!" Fredegar cried. "A militia? Here in the Shire? That's outrageous! I thought that's what those Rangers were for? Didn't you say your King Elessar was going to send 'em back up here?"  
  
Pippin gave Fredegar a quick look, but tapped his chin. "I know Stri-er- the king means to move many of his folk up here and reestablish the old realms, except for the Shire, of course. And he means to bring peace and order back to the north and the Wilderness. But even Gandalf said that we Shire folk would need to grow up and start to take care of ourselves, which we have now."  
  
The young Hobbit gave a nod, almost to himself, and said casually, "I expect we should ask Sam what he thinks."  
  
"Sam?" Fredegar looked from Pippin to Merry, confused. "Why would Sam have any idea?"  
  
"Come, now, Fatty! Surely you realize Sam's much deeper than what appears on the surface," Merry chided mildly. "Still waters there, and lots of good old Hobbit-sense!"  
  
Pippin smiled and added, "If we learned anything on our travels 'down south', it's that there's a good deal more to our Master Samwise than meets the eye!"  
  
"Well, I'll take your word for it," Fredegar said pleasantly. "But if we're to meet his eyes at the new Dragon at noon, we'd best put some speed on! Come on, Pippin, give us a song to hurry us along!"  
  
Pippin thought for a moment, and then started singing.  
  
The Road goes ever on and on  
  
Down from the door where it began  
  
Away up North the Road goes on  
  
And we will follow while we can  
  
  
  
  
  
Pursuing it with eager feet  
  
  
  
  
  
Under hill and over fen  
  
Our Northern kin we hope to meet  
  
With friendly fires at journey's end  
  
The Road goes ever on and on  
  
Who can say where next it goes?  
  
To Long Cleeve now is where we're drawn  
  
  
  
But first to Bag End, Sam and Rose  
  
Fredegar merely stared, but Merry cried, "Why, Pippin! That was rather good! And here I thought Sam and Bilbo were the only poets in the group! Did you just make that up?"  
  
Pippin smiled, delighted. "Well, I did think about it a bit while you and Fatty weren't speaking to one another. Not really very good, but there you are. And it's rather too slow for our purposes. Perhaps we should have a rousing chorus of the Ent's battle song. You know, 'though Isengard be strong and hard' and all that."  
  
Merry chuckled. "Yes, that would be quite rousing, no doubt. And we would have all the young Hobbit lads (and some of the lasses) out here with pitchforks and scythes, ready to have another go at old 'Sharkey'!"  
  
Pippin laughed, but Fatty merely grunted. "These young Hobbits," he muttered under his breath. "Gee-up!" he cried to his pony, snapping the reins and digging his heels into the animal's sides. The pony jumped forward, surprised at its master's sudden order, nearly unseating the Hobbit. The pony galloped for a few paces, and then, at Fatty's frantic pulling on the reins, it settled into a bone-jarring trot.  
  
Pippin and Merry followed, easing their mounts into a much smoother canter, and the three made good time to Bywater and the new Green Dragon Inn.  
  
The old Green Dragon Inn had been a comfortable old place with dark wood, smoky rafters, a large hearth (usually with a large fire blazing inside) and plenty of room for sitting, drinking, talking, or the odd game of darts. The new Green Dragon was much like the old. It was still one of the finest pubs in the Shire, but now it boasted three large fireplaces, more space, and even better ale (especially since the harvest of fourteen twenty). And the dart players had nothing to complain of, either, as there were more boards set up with the larger building. Its polished wood floor was strewn with sweet herbs and rushes that not only gave off a pleasant scent when trod on, but helped keep the floor shining. . The three travelers dismounted before the door, and a young lad took their ponies round back to a sheltered stable. Merry and Pippin shrugged off their haversacks and carried them to the door of the Inn. They paused for a moment on the threshold, gazing at the new homes that had been built after Saruman's demise, as well as the wonderful trees, plants and flowers that were in evidence everywhere. In all, with the help of every able-handed Hobbit, Sam's skill, and the Lady Galadriel's gift, there was little in the Shire that wasn't as good or better than it had been before the coming of Saruman. Taking a last look, they entered the Green Dragon Inn. Despite the fact that it was just on noon, the Dragon was well filled. It was a day of rest for most Hobbits, besides which the weather prevented many from fishing, strolling or just lolling about. Several of the patrons smiled and nodded, lifting their tankards to the newcomers. Merry waved back at several acquaintances, while Pippin and Fatty searched for Sam.  
  
They found him near the rear of the common room, waving and motioning for them to join him. There was a stout, sturdy Hobbit with a broad face and red cheeks sitting with him, who only nodded cautiously as they approached. He looked to be a few years older than Sam, but had a more countrified air to him, as though he wasn't comfortable with large crowds and fine folk. As Fredegar, Pippin and Merry joined Sam, the other Hobbit seemed to scrunch even lower into his seat.  
  
"Sam, how are you? How is Mistress Rose?" Merry asked genially. He had only seen Sam two days ago, but he wanted to put the other Hobbit, Halfast, he guessed, at ease.  
  
"Is she expecting us for dinner?" Pippin inquired, keeping the essentials, such as meals, in mind.  
  
Sam beamed and waved for a round of ale. Then he began the introductions.  
  
"Masters Fredegar Bolger, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took, this is my cousin Halfast Gamgee. Hal, meet Fredegar, Meriadoc and Peregrin."  
  
Sam grinned as Merry and Pippin gave him stern looks. Both bowed along with Fatty, but Pippin piped up, "Just call me Pippin and lets dispense with the 'masters' if you please. I'm pleased to meet you!"  
  
Hal looked a bit shocked at this familiarity, but returned the bows, only slightly more shocked when Merry added his request of informality. The Hobbits sat as the barman brought over a tray with mugs. Fredegar pronounced himself parched and drank off almost half of his tankard at once. The others sipped more slowly, making casual conversation for a while until, finally, Sam placed his tankard on the table and cleared his throat.  
  
"Now then, Hal, s'pose you tell Mr. Brandybuck and Mr. Took all about what you saw away north?"  
  
Halfast also put his drink down and stared at the table. His red cheeks grew redder and he clasped his hands tightly in front of him.  
  
Merry and Pippin knew the look at once; Hal was embarrassed to repeat the story. Pippin placed a companionable arm around the stout Hobbit's shoulders. "Come now, Master Halfast," he cajoled. "We've come expressly to hear your story, and you needn't think we'll scoff. Merry and I are probably the last to scoff about stories of what you saw on the North Moors!"  
  
Hal didn't look a bit comforted by Pippin's words.  
  
"How about if we tell you our story, first," Merry suggested. "We'll try not to varnish it up, and we'll try to stick to the bare bones, but it will still be a bit unbelievable. If you don't laugh at our story, we can't laugh at yours, right?"  
  
"I told Sam I warn't no story teller. I took enough o' ridiculing when first I mentioned it. 'Sides, it were a good two-three year ago. Why'd you want to hear o' it now?"  
  
Sam gave Hal a frown. His cousin still looked uncomfortable. "I told you, Hal, Merry and Pippin are good Hobbits with plenty of good old Hobbit- sense." He glanced across the table and added quickly, "Oh, and Mr. Bolger, too. They've already heard the tale from me, and are just wanting some of the details from you!"  
  
Merry stopped Sam and gave Hal a quick grin. "Let me start first, Master Halfast. That should reassure you that we have no reason to ridicule anything you tell us."  
  
He thought for a moment, then began. "Let's see, we'll start with the Orcs and Amon Hen, shall we? That's as good a place as any to begin."  
  
Pippin nodded and the others settled in for a good tale. Sam and Fatty had heard the story many times, and Sam had read it in the Red Book, as well, but Hal had only heard bits and pieces of the various adventures his cousin and friends had experienced.  
  
Merry began with the attack by the Orcs while they were all running about looking for Frodo. "It was a good job that old Sam kept his wits about him, at least, and figured what Frodo was about. None of the rest of us did!" Pippin cut in, when Merry paused for a moment. Merry picked up the story again and told briefly of the forced march across the plains of Rohan and the push to make Fangorn and the river. He omitted much of the suffering and brutality they'd experienced, cutting to the battle between the Orcs and the Men of Rohan, and how they'd escaped relatively unharmed. He explained how they'd wandered into Fangorn and had followed the stream and finally found Treebeard. Hal was quite interested in the description of Treebeard, Quickbeam and the rest of the Ents, but he had a dissatisfied frown on his face when Merry finally finished his narrative.  
  
"What is it?" Pippin asked, noticing the expression.  
  
"Well, sirs, it was a good story, no question on that, but, begging your pardon, it don't seem to ring true."  
  
Pippin straightened from his comfortable slouch. "Well, I like that! Are you saying that Merry and I made that up? Even your Sam here can vouch for our story. He saw the Ents himself, though at a distance, when we were on our way back home!"  
  
Hal held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Now, Mr. Took, there's no call for getting upset! I didn't mean nothing of the sort! What I meant, sirs, was that my tree-man don't sound quite like yours."  
  
Pippin settled back, satisfied, and Merry urged Hal to continue. "Well, what did your 'tree-man' look like?"  
  
"Now, that won't do," Sam cut in. "Hal, don't you start at the middle of the story. Just tell it like you told me first time."  
  
Hal looked nervously at his tankard of ale and took a long swallow. Wiping his mouth, he sighed. "All right then, Sam, since you vouch for these gentlemen. Here goes.  
  
"I was away up on the North Moors, up in North Farthing. I like to hunt a bit of coney and sometimes a brace of quail and pigeon. Always good to have fresh game for the pot, you know. It was getting late and I was set to call it a night when I heard this booming sort of sound. Kinda like the roll of drums, but not, if you see what I mean."  
  
Pippin playfully put his hand to his mouth and made a tube of his fist. Then he let out a sudden, "Hoom, hm, trum-dum-dee-dum!"  
  
Hal jumped and looked at the young Hobbit with wide eyes. Pippin smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me, Master Halfast. I couldn't resist. Treebeard was always making sounds like that."  
  
"But Mr. Took, that was just the way of it! That was what I heard!"  
  
Pippin laughed and shook his head. "I imagine it was much deeper, though. I haven't enough voice to sound like a real Ent."  
  
"No, sir!" Hal insisted. "It was just like that! Light, you might say. Light and music-y, if you catch my meaning."  
  
Fredegar laughed. "Well, Pippin is rather handy with a line or a rhyme, but his voice is far from musical."  
  
Hal gave Fatty a sour look and shifted in his seat so his shoulder was to Fatty. "The voice I heard was just like Mr. Took's," he said stubbornly.  
  
Merry and Pippin exchanged a look and Pippin asked, "You said our description was different than what you saw. Can you remember how?"  
  
Hal thought, his brow furrowing with the effort. "Well, sir, the creature I was wasn't as tall as you said, though it was tall enough, if you know what I mean. And it had dark skin, almost like it had spent long years in the sun. I couldn't really see it clear from where I was, but it seemed sorta soft-like, its cloths were kind of draping around it."  
  
"Could it have been a 'tree-woman' instead of a tree-man?" Merry asked, trying to contain his excitement.  
  
Hal's broad face suddenly beamed. "That's it!" he said loudly, causing Fatty to jump. "I knowed there was something wrong, but I never thought it might be a female! That's just right!"  
  
"An Ent-wife!" Pippin breathed excitedly.  
  
Almost three hours later, Hal had been questioned and cross-questioned by Pippin and Merry. They had also done their share of clarifying their own experiences. Poor Master Halfast! He was beginning to look a bit harried, but as it was obvious that they believed him, he didn't seem to mind too much. Storytelling was thirsty work and both Pippin and Merry made certain that he was well supplied with ale. Finally, Sam brought the interview to an end.  
  
"This has been interesting, to be sure, but Rosie's expecting me, and she'll be expecting you two soon after. And Mr. Bolger, too, of course," he added quickly. "Hal, will you be joining us?"  
  
The other Hobbits straightened from the lounging positions they'd taken as Hal had been telling of his experience. Hal shook his head.  
  
"Sorry, Sam, but my Peony will be waiting supper for me if I'm late. Didn't expect to be near this long!"  
  
Pippin stood quickly and moved out of the booth they had been sitting at. Laying a hand over his chest, he gave Halfast a low bow, ignoring the interested looks he was getting from the other patrons of the Dragon. "We're deeply in your debt, Mr. Gamgee, for your time and all your kind assistance! I can't tell you how much it means to us!"  
  
Merry added his own thanks, and an equally deep bow. Fredegar grunted and dipped him a bow as well, but straightened quickly. "M'sister's probably expecting me for supper, Sam, so thank Mistress Rose, but I'll have to decline this time."  
  
Hal looked extremely disconcerted at the courtesy being offered him by the two young bucks from such prestigious families. He couldn't, however, be anything but pleased at their genuine gratitude. He was often heard to remark afterward that Captains Took and Brandybuck were as fine young gentleHobbits as you could want. Returning the bows with flustered grace, he mumbled faintly about being 'at their service'.  
  
"Come, Hal, didn't I tell you it would be fine?" Sam asked with a large grin, clapping Hal on the shoulder as the stout Hobbit finally took his leave.  
  
Pippin and Merry were fastening their Elven cloaks and Fatty was shrugging back into his own, still slightly damp one when Sam returned.  
  
"You'll be stabling the ponies here, then?" Sam asked, pulling on his own cloak.  
  
"Well, we decided to go on foot, you know," Pippin answered. He cupped his slightly rounded belly and laughed depreciatingly. "I must have increased several belt sizes in the last year!"  
  
Merry and Pippin were taller now than any other Hobbits in the Shire, but even before their Journey with Frodo, Sam and the others of the Fellowship, they had been thinner and more adventurous than most. All Hobbits were descended from three different classes or breeds of creature. These were the Stoors, the Harfoots and the Fallohides. Harfoots had lived in foothills of mountains and had much to do with Dwarves. They were darker of skin, and smaller. The Stoors liked the water and many of them had lived along the banks of great rivers before moving west. The Fallohides were the least numerous of the three and were the most adventurous. They spoke with Elves, hunted more than tilled the land, and were usually taller and less stout than the other clans.  
  
By Pippin and Merry's time, most Hobbits had intermingled bloodlines, but in the Tooks and Brandybucks, the Fallohide traits ran almost true, and it was evident in Pippin and Merry.  
  
"I feel that I've been lazing about, getting fat and lazy," Merry complained. "That was why we wanted to walk. Besides, one sees more on foot and in the field than on pony-back on a road."  
  
Sam merely shrugged. "Well, take up your packs then, gentlehobbits, and let us be on our way!"  
  
It was just a few miles from the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater to the Hill and Bag End in Hobbiton. In fact, family legend gave it that Bilbo had made the distance in just over ten minutes once, when he had rushed from his home without a hat or even his pocket handkerchief, so he could go on an adventure with an old wizard and thirteen Dwarves! Fortunately for Bilbo, most of it had been downhill. With the miserable weather and the laden haversacks, though, the three friends were trudging up the lane and at Bag End almost an hour later.  
  
Sam threw the door open, letting the warm light spill onto the doorstep. Pippin and Merry were greeted with the aroma of fresh baking and cooking and a cheerful smile from Mistress Rose.  
  
"Well, Rose," Sam said gustily, "We're home!" 


	4. A Weary Journey

Disclaimer: As everyone knows, there is no real map of the entire Shire, so some of the locations are just guessed at. Also, I have no idea the real lineage of Diamond, so I'm making up most everything about her, her family and her home. Sorry it took so long, hopefully more will be coming out sooner. Everything except the OC's belong to JRR Tolkein, his family, his estate, etc.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Pippin and Merry were up early the following morning. They'd spent a pleasant evening filled with food and laughter and good conversation with Sam and Rose. The young Hobbits had chuckled and cooed over baby Elanor, and had given Rose the presents. She had given Merry a shrewd look after folding the beautiful, knitted blanket over Elanor's sleeping form. Merry colored, but it was Pippin who laughed and assured her that Merry had finally spoken to Fredegar about his sister Estella.  
  
"That's wonderful, Mr. Pippin. Now we just need to find a nice lass for you!"  
  
Pippin had choked over the mug of ale he'd been sipping, while Rose, Sam and Merry laughed.  
  
Quickly changing the subject, Pippin filled Rose in on their afternoon and what they'd learned of Hal's experience. They had discussed their plans, Hal's story, and even some of the old stories Sam had found in his reading. Pippin commented on the obscure reference to 'treeherdesses' that he'd found, and when they'd discussed the subject for every angle, they finally retired. After a quick wash and a standing breakfast, Pippin and Merry shrugged into their packs (now made much heavier since Rose had added homemade travel bars, dried meats, and a bit of cheese). Then, with a last kiss for Elanor and wave to Sam, they bowed to Rose and took off north down the lane. The first hour went quickly as they were traveling on the road leading to Overhill. They made good time for a while, but after leaving Overhill behind, they set off northwest across the fields. The late crops were ripe, ready for harvest. Wild sunflowers, their heads drooping with the burden of ripened seeds, dotted the hedges at the borders of the fields they made their way through. They climbed over several low stone walls that marked the farm boundaries, and waded through or hopped over small brooks as they made their way in a lazy northwest direction. They kept the western branch of The Water to their left, meaning to skirt round Rushock Bog and follow the Bindbole Wood north for several miles. Then they would head due west across the North Moors toward the feet of Annuminas. Long Cleeve was located in a deep fold of land, near the borders of the Shire. The valley formed by the fold had a large stream running the length of it, which neatly divided the town into Upper and Lower Long Cleeve. The Hobbits in Upper made their homes in holes along the steep western wall of the fold. They had, at some distant time in the past, even named the long, interconnected network of holes, tunnels and caves the 'New Smials'. As more than one Long Cleeve Took had remarked, only half-joking, they would have called them the 'Great Smials' for the vast size of the network, but some jumped up southerners had already taken the name. The Hobbits in Lower Long Cleeve made their homes in long, low houses set well back from the stream which was prone to overflow with the spring runoff.  
  
As Pippin recalled, his closest relations lived in the New Smials, so they would have to cross the bridge in the center of town and trudge up the long, narrow path leading up to the Hobbit holes. Pippin also remembered that there was a small Inn located within the connecting caves. They could probably stop there and find the direction to some of Pippin's kin.  
  
Merry and Pippin crossed another small brook, taking care not to wet their toes more than necessary. The rain from yesterday had departed, but the chill of autumn seemed to be with them to stay. They'd been walking for almost three hours now, and the weight of their packs, along with some months of inactivity was beginning to tell. Pippin was determined not to be the first to call a halt, but he was loosing energy rather quickly. His legs weren't used to the constant walking anymore, either, since he rode his pony so much. The muscles in his calves were beginning to knot up, but he pushed on grimly. Despite the chill, Pippin could feel the sweat begin to trickle over his brow and down his back, between his shoulders. He was finally ready to swallow his pride and call a halt when Merry stopped, shrugged off his pack and threw himself to the ground.  
  
"Mercy!" he cried, grinning at Pippin and massaging his own calves. "Have pity on an old hobbit! I'm not in the shape I used to be, my lad! Nor as young!"  
  
Pippin let out a relieved sigh and dropped his own pack. He fell to the ground next to his friend and laughed. "Thank goodness!" he said, wiping his brow. "I thought I was going to collapse! Let's settle our breaks now, so we don't kill ourselves in our first day!"  
  
Merry released his right leg and began to massage the left. "Good idea, Pip," he said, nodding. "I think a short break every two hours would be advisable for the first few days, don't you?"  
  
"I actually think we should have brought the ponies, to tell you the truth," Pippin quipped. "Every two hours sounds wonderful right now. Too bad we didn't think of it an hour ago! Fancy a small bite to sustain us?"  
  
The cousins laughed and joked as they set about making a light mid-morning snack. It was rather meager fare for Hobbits, being only bread, cheese, and some dried fruit, but it refreshed them and put heart into them. After a quick drink of fresh water from one of the nearby brooks they were ready to continue.  
  
"I don't notice that the packs are much lighter," Pippin mused. "We mustn't have been that hungry!"  
  
"I imagine they'll be light enough in a week or so. By then we'll be heartily sick of camping rations and looking forward to the first decent Inn we come to!"  
  
"We won't come to one if we keep to the Moors and fields, though. Perhaps we should veer west and take the road to Needlehole?" The wistful look on Pippin's face made Merry laugh again.  
  
"Oh, no, cousin. It was your idea to hare out across the fields, just as it was your idea to camp along the way. We're both going to be tired, but I have a wedding to shape up for, so we'll keep to our original plan!"  
  
Pippin let out an exaggerated sigh and hefted his pack up on his shoulders more firmly. "'A fool of a Took' Gandalf always called me, and now I'm inclined to agree. Ah, well, since there's nothing for it but to see it through, let's be off! Ready cousin?"  
  
"Lead on, Pip!"  
  
The Hobbits set off again, talking or singing or just thinking as the mood hit them. They had grown up in different homes, but since entering their teens they had been devoted to each other and were always finding ways to visit one another. They actually got on better than many siblings Pippin knew. Pippin himself had three sisters, while Merry was an only child. They'd been like brothers for so long that it seemed unbelievable that this might be their last adventure together. Miss Estella Bolger was a good Hobbit woman; comely, talented and learned in her letters and numbers. She was pleasant and good-humored, with a placid character and not an adventurous bone in her body. She was a good match for Merry since it was usually Pippin who talked him into adventures. But Pippin knew he would grow bored in that kind of match. In fact, Pippin suspected that he would follow in Bilbo's and Frodo's footsteps and remain a bachelor. He had nothing against marriage; in fact, until he and his friends had formed part of the Fellowship and journeyed far away from home, he'd always assumed he would find a nice lass and settle down and marry. Unfortunately, his time spent with the fine ladies and gentlemen in King Elessar's court had changed his perceptions a bit. He had seen women strong and intelligent in matters beyond their own kitchens and children. He had seen women willing to risk life and limb in the defense of their lords and lands. Even Queen Arwen, beautiful and proud, the Evenstar of her people, had given up her birthright and chosen the shortened years of Men to be with the Man she loved.  
  
Pippin was afraid that he wouldn't be able to settle for someone who's thoughts centered around her kitchen, garden and the babblings of her children. He wanted someone he could talk to about larger events than the annual harvest and who's vegetables would win the local competition. Not that he thought that those attributes were unimportant; he knew they were. But he wanted something more. And being realistic, Pippin knew that the type of mate he sought, someone smart, witty, and not afraid of the odd adventure, as well as being a 'good wife', probably didn't exist. At least not in the Shire. Pippin glanced at Merry, striding along beside him, and wondered how he had known a Stella Bolger was the one for him. Stella had been a pest, as Fredegar had said, when Merry, Pippin and Fatty had been in their teens and the early part of their tweens. Now she and Merry would be tying the knot.  
  
"What is it, Pippin?" Merry asked unexpectedly.  
  
Startled, Pippin felt his cheeks turn red. "What do you mean?"  
  
Merry smiled at his best friend. "There are a lot of things you are, Pip, old friend. Quiet isn't one of them. You haven't uttered a word in almost an hour."  
  
Pippin shrugged. "I guess I was just thinking about how our lives have changed the last few years. And how they're still changing. Could you imagine our Sam as a father? Or yourself as a groom?" Pippin shook his head. "This might be our last adventure together."  
  
Merry nodded. "You're right, there. But we'll do other things together as we all get older. Rose is right. We need to find you a wife, too."  
  
Pippin gave Merry a disbelieving look. How could his best friend know so little of him?  
  
Merry reached out for Pippin's arm, bringing him to a stop. "Pippin, I know what you're thinking. But even if Rose is thinking of a nice, sweet home-body, I know you need a different kind of wife. Someone with the same sense of adventure that you have."  
  
He grinned and cuffed his cousin on the shoulder, causing the younger Hobbit to smile back. "Come on, Pippin, buck up. I don't know if that kind of lass exists, but if she does, we'll find her!"  
  
The cousins continued on until dusk, speaking little, both wrapped in their own thoughts again. When they finally made camp, it was chilly and growing cloudy. They might get rained on again. Building a small fire, they huddled into their Elven cloaks and fed on a meager meal of travel cakes and water. Both were exhausted and neither felt like exerting himself to make a real meal. As they sat watching the flickering flames, Pippin said suddenly, "Do you think she exists at all?"  
  
  
  
The countryside around Long Cleeve was hilly, but covered with groves of pine, maple, and oak. The wood was very carefully harvested, the foresters never taking more than needed. The fields were rich with barley, wheat and other crops. The children grew strong and sturdy. It was hotter in the summer and colder in the winter than most of the rest of the Shire, but the folk living there wouldn't have it any other way. These hardy, northern Hobbits treasured their land, produce and children and were proud of them. They had other treasures, as well, that weren't nearly as well-known, though.  
  
As Begrobas Took, a direct descendant of old 'Bullroarer' Took, looked around his fire at his numerous children gathered there, he felt his chest swell with pride. His offspring ranged in age from their forties to their tweens. The males were fine, sturdy lads; handsome in the manner of Hobbits and each as good a forester, farmer or herdsman as could be wished. The females were one of the less known treasures of the North Farthing. They were well versed in the gentle arts of household management, cooking, needlework, and healing. Begrobas, knowing the girls would grow to be fine Hobbit lasses, named them appropriately after the gems that their long ago friends the dwarves mined: Opal, Ruby, Diamond, Garnet and Sapphire. A small frown creased his forehead as he thought of his middle daughter, but he brushed it aside. Tonight was to be a festive occasion celebrating the betrothal of his second daughter, Ruby. As he sat in his own comfortable chair by the fire, he smiled at his family, his eyes moving fondly over them. Until he came to the empty chair on the far side of the blazing fire. The others looked nervously at one another, then back at their father. He stood abruptly, pointed at the empty chair, and bellowed, "Where is Diamond?!"  
  
Although it was getting dark, Diamond Took, of the north Tooks of Long Cleeve, didn't notice. She was searching for a special type of root in the Bindbole woods and wanted to harvest as much as possible before the cold weather settled in for good. She wasn't afraid to be so far from home; she often wandered through the North Farthing on her own. She knew this habit drove her dear father to distraction and was considered unfeminine, but she couldn't really help it. Diamond was skilled with a needle and a cooking pot, but she didn't really enjoy doing either as did her sisters. What Diamond really loved was tramping about, seeing things, having tame little adventures.  
  
When she'd been younger, her brothers invited her along on their tramps, laughing at the little lass who insisted on keeping up. As she grew older, however, they had begun to discourage her from going, telling her that she'd never catch a husband if she insisted on acting like a lad. No one wanted a wife who was better at camping and hunting than he was, they said.  
  
"As though I'd want so faint hearted a fellow!" she had answered them. "My husband will have to accept me as I am!"  
  
Her brothers had laughed and teased that she would end up an old maid, but Diamond had sniffed at the possibility. Now, however, she wasn't so sure. She was nothing like her sisters in looks, being, her mother said, a throwback to the Fallohides of the north. She wasn't plump and rosy cheeked, being more fair and slender than most Hobbits. Her mother called her 'willowish' but her detractors just said she looked sickly. Her adventurous streak was very off-putting for amorous suitors, especially when she would challenge a swain to a game darts, and win! In fact, although Diamond was now twenty-six and should be at least comfortably engaged to be married, she'd never had a serious suitor.  
  
Diamond sighed as she pushed farther into the wood. Most hobbit lasses would be frightened to wander this wood, with all the stories and tales that had been told of it. It was said that the trees here moved of their own will. No map showed a trail through the wood because the paths changed almost daily. Diamond wasn't afraid of the wood, though. She had never felt any hostility from the trees and every time she entered, she made certain to never harm one. Even the roots she collected were carefully dug and never completely harvested. She would take what was needed and leave plenty in place for the future. Diamond sometimes even felt that she was being watched. She'd never seen anyone or anything, but she felt that her watcher approved of her even if it didn't make itself known.  
  
As the dark increased, Diamond finally noticed. It was not a good idea to light a fire inside the wood, and she didn't have enough light to see clearly. Realizing that she would have to wait for morning to finish her collecting, she turned around and headed the way she'd come. She would return to her small camp at the edge of the wood, make herself supper, and turn in. Gathering only dead, fallen branches, she moved back to her camp and started a modest fire. After finishing her small meal and cleaning up, Diamond finally removed the cap from her head, releasing her light brown curls. As she stood and brushed the leaves and moss from the breeches she wore when tramping, Diamond thought about the family gathering she was missing.  
  
Her sister Ruby was newly engaged to be married and her betrothed was being formally introduced tonight. Diamond did not want to be present for this. Ruby was only a year older than she, and Diamond didn't want to be around for the obvious comparisons. Especially since their younger sister, Garnet, was already 'walking out' with a young lad who seemed very serious about her. Besides, she thought as she sat down on her bedroll, she was much happier out here. Lying down, Diamond tucked an arm under her head and stared into the fire. As sleep overtook her, she couldn't help wondering if there really was a hobbit anywhere who didn't mind an adventurous, 'willowy', unfeminine wife.  
  
Pippin and Merry had been on the road for almost a fortnight and, as Merry had predicted, they were thoroughly, heartily sick of camping. Unfortunately, with all the rain they'd had, the going had been much slower than they'd anticipated. They were barely at the Bindbole Wood. From their maps, they knew it was an easy trek from the wood to the Needlehole Road. Once on the road, they would easily find an inn. It wasn't food that concerned them, but the lack of baths. Hardy at need and able to withstand much in the way of hardship, Hobbits were also fastidious in matters of personal hygiene. Both Merry and Pippin felt filthy and foot sore. And even though they enjoyed one another's company, they were eager to hear other voices at this point. As they moved closer to the wood, Pippin remarked, "Think there're any Ents left?"  
  
Merry gazed thoughtfully at the approaching line of trees and rubbed his chin. "I just don't know, Pippin," he said finally. "Sauron has been overthrown these two and a half years. Perhaps they all finally returned south. Or perhaps the Ents and Entwives have found that 'road that leads to the west' where both their hearts may rest?"  
  
Pippin sighed. "It would be fine to see Treebeard again, though, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Yes, but it would take a precious lot to get me back to Fangorn right now, my lad," Merry answered cheerfully. "I'm to be married soon, and I doubt Estella would approve of my taking a journey of several months just before we wed. Like as not, I'd return to find she'd got married without me!"  
  
Pippin laughed. "No, never that, cousin. Miss Estella has had her eye on you far too long."  
  
"Best not to tempt fate, though, don't you agree?"  
  
Nodding, Pippin clapped his cousin on the back and began to whistle a merry tune. They were making good time this day. The sun had finally shown her face again and the land they were traversing was not tilled. It was grown rocky, hard and firm under their feet. The Wood was perhaps another hour's quick walking, and as if by silent agreement, the Hobbits continued on without a break. 


	5. At the Sign of the Hoom

Disclaimer: All settings, scenes, and most characters belong to J.R.R.T. and family, estate, etc.  Geography is only guessed at, so please excuse any inconsistencies.  OC's belong to me, but I tried to make them as authentic as possible.  The events and characters belong to JRRT et al. 

SPOILERS:  LOTR, both movies (thought not to as great an extent as I thought), and The Hobbit.  If you've only seen the movies, the references to the Ents will be vague and confusing, so GO READ THE BOOKS!  

Chapter 5

"Another two or three days on the road, wouldn't you say?" 

After consulting their maps, Pippin and Merry had decided to strike out due west.  They had skirted the Bindbole Wood north for some miles before reaching the end of the marshes.  Wood and marsh were far behind and the terrain was rising steadily.  Now the mountains they called Annuminas were visible in the distance and they knew that Long Cleeve lay in a fold of land in the foothills of those mountains.  By Merry's reckoning, they would eventually come to the road that led to Needlehole and farther northeast toward to Oatbarton.  They would simply cross over and continue west, and then it would be an easy trek to Long Cleeve.  

Pippin, who had spoken, was looking forward to a bath, clean clothes and a large, leisurely meal, not necessarily in that order.  He was sick to death of camp rations and vowed that the return journey would be on pony back with numerous stops along the way.  Merry finally looked away from the distant horizon.  He rolled his map and tucked it away in his now nearly empty pack.

"By my reckoning, we should make Long Cleeve in two days.  Or, if you want to push on tonight, we might make it by evening tomorrow."

Pippin considered.  "I can't imagine that any hazards lay ahead of us, now that we've passed the marshes.  I seem to remember that the landscape is rather smooth and dry from this point.  It does climb gradually, but nothing too drastic.  I would prefer to continue!"

"Weary of your adventure already, cousin?" Merry asked, laughing.  "Tut, tut!  Remember, this was your idea!"

Pippin groaned.  "Don't remind me!"

Diamond felt dirty and tired.  She slipped into their spacious hole silently, trying to put off the inevitable confrontation with her father for as long as possible.  The low, rounded hallway, lined with dark paneling and furnished with many coat hooks and comfortable benches was empty.  Relieved, Diamond shrugged off her gathering sack and moved quietly along the passage, toward her bedroom.  She tiptoed past the various doorways, peeking inside before hurrying past.  Diamond longed for a bath to wash away the grime of her journey, and hoped she would be able to reach her room without meeting any of the family.  She was nearly there, too, when her sister Ruby stepped out of one of the pantries.  Diamond slipped back, into the main sitting room, but too late.  Ruby spied her and screeched, alerting the entire household that their wanderer was returned.

"Father!" Ruby yelled, following her sister into the sitting room.  "_She's_ back!  And she's a sight!"

Diamond could not prevent a sigh.  Ruby had ever been a tattler.  The older sister seemed to delight in causing trouble for her.

"Goodness, Ruby!  What would your betrothed do if he heard you shrieking like that?" Diamond demanded, moving toward one of the many doors exiting the room.  She was trying to make her escape before her father caught a look at her, but it wasn't to be. 

She had only gone a few feet when the heavy tread of her father's footsteps could be heard thudding in their direction.  Diamond swallowed and stood, rooted to the spot, while Ruby sniffed with satisfaction.  Their father had expressly told Diamond to be present at the betrothal celebration, but she'd left anyway.  He was bound to be furious!

"Diamond!"

The bellow resounded loudly in the large room, and a few seconds later the owner followed his voice.  Begrobas Took was a large, stout hobbit with a broad, generally friendly face and red cheeks.  He wore a fine linen shirt, the cuffs dangling loosely at his thick wrists, as though he'd not finished dressing yet.  The waistcoat he wore, rich brocade with real copper buttons, seemed to affirm this, since it was not yet buttoned across his broad middle.  His thick, curly hair, normally wrestled into some semblance of order was now spiked and furrowed, as though restless fingers had been raked through it ceaselessly.  The normally good-humored expression on his face was replaced by one of wrath as he stormed into the room.  He stomped up to Diamond; his large, furry feet loud even on the gleaming, thickly carpeted wooden floor.

"Explain yourself!" he demanded when he stood face to face with his troublesome daughter.

Diamond swallowed.  "Well, Father, I…"  She stopped, knowing that whatever she said would sound childish and selfish.  She had purposely disobeyed her father and missed an important family gathering.  And she really didn't have a good excuse. 

"Well, miss?  Speak up!  What do you have to say for yourself?  What reason have you for embarrassing your family and slighting your sister?"

Diamond couldn't resist a sidewise glance at Ruby, who had the grace to look away.  That Diamond's absence was a bit of an embarrassment was true, but Ruby was probably thankful for it.  Ruby had no more understanding of her unfeminine sister than any of her other siblings.  Diamond's desire to compete with the lads and her taste for tales of adventure and daring were unhobbit-like and frowned upon.  And Diamond would have been certain to annoy and irritate her sister, and possibly embarrass the family with her unusual ways, long before the celebration was done.  Before Diamond could formulate any sort of answer, however, her mother walked placidly into the room.  

"Now, Mister Took," she said in her quiet, gentle manner.  "The lass has only just returned.  From gathering those healing roots, it appears.  Perhaps she should bathe first, and then, when she joins us for supper, she can explain things more clearly."

Taking one of his wrists and neatly buttoning the dangling cuff, Marigold Took gave him a smile.  

"But, my dear," Begrobas said, extending the other arm, "'the lass' hasn't explained anything, yet, clearly or unclearly!"

"Of course not, dear," Marigold agreed.  She buttoned the waistcoat as she continued.  "And cannot until she's clean and fed.  A wonderful suggestion, my dear, and I'll see to it straight away."

Giving her husband's waistcoat a firm pat, Marigold took her daughter's arm and led her away, ignoring Ruby's huff of indignation and Begrobas' grumbling complaints.

"Thank you, Mother," Diamond said a few minutes later in the bathing chamber.  "I know Father is angry, but please do not try to make me believe my sister was unduly upset at my absence."

Marigold smiled at the most troublesome of all her ten children.  "Of course your sister was not overly disturbed.  Your father, however, is another matter."

As Diamond lowered herself into a large tub, Marigold picked up the discarded lad's garments.  "Your father is proud of all of his children, including you," she said.

"He is ever looking to show all of you off, you know.  He was quite disappointed that you were not on hand to meet Ruby's prospective in-laws."

"Hmph," Diamond snorted.  "You mean he was disappointed that I did not formally meet my prospective brothers-in-law.  Father is ever looking to shackle me to some respectable fellow who thinks 'adventure' is a foul word.  And my brothers-in-law, I am sure, have no doubt been informed that I am not quite respectable."

"Diamond!"  Marigold looked shocked.

"Oh, Mother, you know what I mean.  I wear lad's clothing, I take adventures, I travel alone.  I'm not frightened of Bindbole, and I rather enjoy ghastly tales of daring and battle.  No," Diamond said firmly, "I am NOT quite respectable.  And," she added quietly, almost to herself, "no respectable gentlehobbit would ever consider me as a wife."

A soft smile played on Marigold's lips.  "We shall see, my dear," she whispered, bundling the soiled garments into a tight ball as she left.  "We shall see."

"Well, there it is, Merry.  Long Cleeve!"

Pippin and Merry had pushed hard yesterday and today to make the town before nightfall.  After crossing the road to Needlehole, they had kept to their northwesterly route until they'd come on another road.  This one looked to be going in the same direction they were traveling in, so they'd followed it.  Soon enough they began passing farms and orchards.  Barley, corn and wheat were ripening and looked ready to harvest soon.  The orchards were full of apple trees, the bright red fruits plentiful and large.  The cousins now passed farmers and herders along the road and exchanged greetings.  Strangers were few in this northern region, and Pippin and Merry had more than their share of curious stares.  

At last they stood on the crest of a small hill and looked away north.  The road dipped into a deep valley and they could see the land rise on both sides of the road.  A large stream (or small river, depending on your outlook) ran beside the road for some way before turning east and disappearing through the foothills.  As twilight deepened, the hobbits could see lights coming on in the distance, on either side of the road.  The sight was strangely heartening, and gave them the energy for the last leg of their journey.

"Now for it," Merry said.  "The last push."

Shouldering their much-lightened packs, they set of at a good pace toward Long Cleeve.

Lower Long Cleeve reminded Merry very much of Bywater, with the collection of attractive houses facing the stream and lanes bordered by tall stately trees.  Well-kept lawns led down to the banks of the streams and most homes had small gardens, though most were covered for the winter.  It was homey and attractive, and Merry couldn't help wondering if Sam hadn't seen this small town and used it as a guideline when he'd gone up and down the Shire repairing the damage done by Saruman and his henchmen.  Merry had heard that Long Cleeve, being so distant from the center of the Shire, had sustained very little damage.  Pippin, however, had no eyes for the charm of Lower Long Cleeve.  He was eager to be off, over the bridge and up the hill.

"Come on, Merry!  This isn't the time for sightseeing when we're so close!  Tomorrow I'll admire the village as much as you wish, but supper, bath and bed are close.  Let's go!"

The climb up the hill was not nearly so long as Pippin remembered.  But then on his last trip he had been an adventurous teen, and the prospect of visiting countrified, rustic (as he thought them) cousins had bored him completely.  It still didn't excite him, but this time his visit had a purpose.  He knew that once his obligatory visit was finished and he'd answered the riddle of the mail delay, he could be about the business of exploring.  And perhaps they could find some news of the Entwives!

The path up the hill was hard packed, but lined with thick, lush grass.  The doors opening onto the path were round and all neatly painted.  Some of the doorways had potted evergreen shrubs or flower boxes on either side, and some had small arbors arched over the entryway with climbing vines.  The windows, as in all hobbit holes, were deep.  Most were set with frosted glass to let light in, but maintain privacy on such a public pathway.  The cousins had passed several doorways, each with a letterbox and the occupant's name neatly printed.  Pippin noted that all the letterboxes were empty of either incoming or outgoing mail, but then, that was to be expected, wasn't it?  Soon, they came to a doorway that was much larger than the rest.  

The door was round, as in most Hobbit dwellings, but it was a double door, split down the center so that either side could be opened separately or both could be opened at the same time.  There was a wooden sign, old, faded and in need of repainting, hung over this entrance.  As Pippin and Merry paused before the door, they could hear the hum of many voices coming from inside.  Pippin looked up.

"Well, isn't _that_ interesting," he said, nudging Merry and pointing up.

"Good heavens," Merry said.  "Pippin, it cannot be that easy!"

Both hobbits carefully studied the sign.  '_Hoom of the Shepherdess_' it read.  The letters were dark green over a painting of a vast forest at the foot of a mountain range.  

"_Very_ interesting," Pippin said.  He stroked his chin and murmured, "Not a sign of any sheep, but acres and acres of forest.  One must wonder what exactly the shepherdess herded."

"Do you think 'hoom' is a misspelling?" Merry asked.

They looked at one another, both remembering the distinctive rumbling sounds made by Treebeard and his people.  'Hoom' could be a misspelling of 'home', passed on from generation to generation, but Pippin was hoping it had some deeper meaning.

"Well, cousin," he said, "I propose that we enter this fine establishment and see what there is to see."

The interior of the _'Hoom'_ was unlike any inn or pub either had been in before.  Pippin was certain he'd not come here on his previous visit.  He would surely have remembered.  Although it was located in a tunnel, dug out of the side of the cliff, the interior of the _'Hoom'_ was very much like a forest.  The smooth, rounded walls had been skillfully plastered and painted like the boles of huge trees.  The ceiling was painted, as well, to resemble the underside of a forest canopy.  All of the furniture was made of wood, but not smooth, finished wood.  Instead, the tables were huge tree trunks with large polished wooden slabs for tops.  The chairs were made of branches, the backs intricately woven with unusual designs.  There were several windows in the wall, but the glass was of a dark green, which, during the day, would no doubt give the interior a green tint.  

As the cousins entered, several of the patrons stopped in mid-conversation to look at them.  It was a mixed bunch that stared at Pippin and Merry.  Many of the customers looked well to do, while others looked to be plain working hobbits, farmers, or merchants.  As the proprietor, a rounded, balding person of uncertain years hurried to them, conversation began again.

"How do you gentlehobbits do?" he said, bowing low and seeming to puff with each bow.  Straightening, he said, "Welcome to the _Hoom_.  Can I show you to a table?  You look like you've been on the road for some time.  Perhaps you were wanting a room?  Or a bath, perhaps?  Our bathhouse is the finest in the North Farthing!  We've a bit of a crowd, what with the Harvest celebration just around the corner, but I'm sure we can accommodate you with no difficulty.  And I am Evangrim Clearwater, the owner,"

he added with another low bow. 

Pippin and Merry had exchanged an amused glance during this long introduction.  For some reason the owner reminded them both of Barliman Butterbur, the owner of the _Prancing Pony_ in Bree.  Mr. Clearwater's establishment was obviously prosperous.  His manner of speech, though educated, was hurried and a bit countrified.  But he had the same habit as old Barliman of speaking to one customer while his eyes restlessly swept the rest of the room to make sure nothing was amiss.  And both had the same way of looking extremely busy and harried even when they were standing perfectly still.

"If you have a room for two, and baths, you'll have earned our sincerest gratitude!" Merry told him, smiling.

"And supper!" Pippin added.  "Lots of supper for two very hungry hobbits!"

"Of course, sirs!  If you'll just follow me, I'll show you to a room."

The owner led them away from the main room and to a side passage, maintaining a steady stream of conversation on the local doings, the weather, the harvest, and anything else that came to mind.  The passage was, in contrast to the common room, quiet and well lit, with several doors on either side.  "We have one window room left if you would like," he offered.  

"Whatever you have, as long as the beds are soft," Merry assured him.  

Pulling out a large ring of keys, the owner fitted one into the next door and opened it.  The room was spacious enough.  It had two small beds and a desk under the window.  A pitcher and bowl stood on the chest of drawers, along with a lamp.  The owner hurried across the room to light the lamp.  Turning to them, he said, "Will this do, sirs?"

"This will be fine," Pippin assured him.  He dropped his pack wearily on the end of one bed.  "And the bathhouse?"

"Ah, this way, sirs."

He led them a bit farther down the passage and opened another door.  It wasn't a bath_house_, of course, but a large bathing chamber.  The room was huge, with several gleaming copper tubs and tables piled with towels.  Scented soaps in small bowls were placed on a small stand beside each tub.  The floor had been covered with large, smooth flagstones, set close enough together so that tender toes would not get caught, but far enough apart that water would run between them and away through a drain below.  Pippin and Merry smiled their approval.

"I'll have my lad start heating the water," Clearwater said.  "It shouldn't take more than a quarter of an hour.  Would you like to rest in your room?  Or would you sirs want to eat first?"

"Bath first!" Merry declared.  "I'm not certain I could stand myself at the supper table, and we wouldn't want to chase your other customers away!"

"I agree," Pippin added.  "As it is, my breeches could probably stand in the corner by themselves right now!  First a bath, and then supper, if you please, Mr. Clearwater."

The owner nodded and led them back to their rooms, bowing low before leaving them.  Merry dropped his pack on the floor and removed his travel-stained cloak.  Pippin had already done and now threw himself onto his bed.  

"Ah, now this is more like it!" he said with a sigh.  

"You might want to wash your hair before you get too well acquainted with your pillow, Master Took!" Merry teased.  "Right now it is rather a mess!"

Pippin jumped up and examined his pillow.  Sure enough, there was a fine dusting of dirt on the clean linen.  He quickly snatched it up and brushed it off.

"Well," he said, "I suppose we shall have to sit here and twiddle our thumbs until our baths are ready so we don't soil anything else."

"You may twiddle your thumbs, Pip, but I'm going to take out my only change of clothing so I'll have something clean to wear."

They both emptied their packs upon the chest of drawers and took stock.  It was a good job that they'd finally reached Long Cleeve.  They had only travel bars left of their food.  The maps were smudged and dog-eared with constant handling.  Pippin brought out a small treasure, though.  Stuffed at the bottom of his pack was a set of brushes that Merry hadn't talked him into leaving behind.  The clothing brush would probably take the worst of the grime from their cloaks, and the kit included a fine hairbrush and comb, and a stiff brush for the furry stuff that grew on hobbit feet.  Merry whistled when he saw them.

"I can't believe you lugged that with you up here, but I am thankful!  All I brought was a single comb!"  

"Like my pipe and weed, these are more precious than rings to me," Pippin said, briefly remembering that fine day, two years ago, that he, Merry, Strider and Gimli sat quietly and smoked in the ruin of Orthanc.  Clearing his throat and swiping briefly at his eyes, he added, "Besides, I must see my kin and make an impression.  You are lucky enough that you may stay here while I endure the tortures of a social visit with relatives I don't even know!"

"Come now, Cousin Took," Merry said bracingly to relieve his cousin's embarrassment.  "After the dangers we faced in Moria together, not to mention on the road to Isengard, a simple visit should be nothing!  Besides, I would not desert you in your hour of need.  I shall go with you!  I'm curious about these North Tooks.  Perhaps--," he paused at a knock on the door.  

"If ye please, sirs, yer baths be ready!" came the call from without.  

"At last!"  Pippin gathered his things and, Merry right behind, headed for the bathing chamber.

The common room of the _Hoom_ was crowded by the time Merry and Pippin had finished their supper.  They'd also had two helpings of dessert each and were now comfortably ensconced at a table near the hearth with mugs of fine ale.  The only thing that would have made the moment more perfect would have been a pipe, but their supply of pipe-weed had been exhausted some days ago.  They would have to forgo pipes until they could restock.  But they could and did sit back to listen to the conversation of the local citizens.  There was much talk about the recent engagement of Ruby Took to one Everard Wheyfield, from over Oatbarton way.  

Pippin knew that Ruby was a distant cousin, but he wasn't much interested in her engagement.  From all accounts it was a good match, but even more important to the locals was that Begrobas Took had been generous to a fault with the customary gifts given out at these types of occasions.  Pippin smiled at Merry.

"It seems my Uncle Roby's generosity makes him very popular in these parts," he murmured.

"I'm sure that if I still had four marriageable daughters, I would be generous too."

"Four?  No, Merry, the eldest is already married.  And now the second is engaged, so that leaves only three, though I think they are too young to be considered yet."

Merry shook his head sadly.  "No.  I was listening to some of the conversation while you were getting the ale.  The eldest daughter was married, almost three years ago.  But they were living near Hobbiton when we arrived back from the south.  He was killed in the Battle of Bywater.  Your cousin moved back home after."

Pippin stared, shocked.  "I had no idea!"

"Well, and why should you?  Your families have never been close.  But, according to rumour, she is well over her mourning period and now ready to marry again.  They had only been married for a few months, after all.  And I understand she is very pretty, too."

Pippin took a sip of his ale and then gave Merry a long look.  "Meriadoc Brandybuck, whatever it is you have on your mind, I don't like it," he said suspiciously.

Merry shook his head and spread his hands innocently.  Mr. Clearwater came bustling over to their table before he could reply. 

"Excuse me, gentlehobbits," he said with a low bow.  "The other customers were just wondering, since you're strangers to this area, whether you have any stories or songs you could share?  Perhaps some tales from away south?"

Pippin started.  He suddenly had a vision of the _Prancing Pony_ in Bree and the trouble a similar request had landed Frodo, and by association, himself, Merry, and Sam in.  If it hadn't been for good old Strider, their quest would have been over before it had begun.  But he and Merry had no dangerous secrets now.  There really could be no harm in sharing a tale or two.  Especially when he realized that by 'away south' Clearwater had meant the south of the Shire, and not Gondor or Rohan.

Merry looked equally startled, but recovered first.  "Well, Pip?  What do you say?  Fancy a song?"

Pippin smiled and dismissed his reservations.  "What could it hurt?"

Diamond was still smarting under the dressing down she'd received from her father after supper.  Of course Ruby was there as the injured party and delighted in gloating at Diamond's embarrassment.  Diamond couldn't understand her older sister.  Ruby was all that an eligible young hobbit-maid should be: she was pretty and plump, deft with a needle, an excellent cook, and if that wasn't enough, her father was quite wealthy.   Ruby wasn't extremely intelligent, but then, most of the fellows about here seemed not to consider that a liability. About the only area where Ruby might be faulted was that she had a tendency toward being a spend-thrift.  But that was easily explained because she had a doting father.  Her husband-to-be was plump enough in the pocket that this consideration could be shrugged away.  Yet with all that she had in her favor, Ruby was ever seeking to embarrass her younger sister.  Diamond shook her head as she donned the heavy lad's cloak she had hidden away in her room.  She could not compete with her lovely older sister in any area except intelligence.  Why, then, was Ruby forever trying to make Diamond's life even more uncomfortable?  

Diamond listened at the door of her bedchamber until she was certain that everyone else was too occupied to notice any untoward noises from Diamond's room.  When she was sure she could do so undetected, Diamond moved to her window, unlatched it, and slipped out of the room.  She was lucky to have a room with a window, a concession her mother had gotten her a few years ago when it was obvious that love struck swains wouldn't be beating a path to her door.  Once she was settled on the path, Diamond straightened and looked about.  It was growing much colder and she did not think she would have the chance to venture out once the winter settled in for good, so Diamond was prepared to take advantage of whatever opportunities availed themselves to her now.  Tonight, however, Diamond had no thoughts for a long journey.  She merely wanted to escape the frowning disapproval she seemed to have earned from everyone except her mother.  Tugging the hood up and pulling the cloak closely about her shoulders and lower face, Diamond slipped down the neat, well-tended path toward the local inn.

It was not often that Diamond chanced visiting the inn by herself.  Even her adventurous spirit shrank from such blatant flouting of tradition as frequenting a public house unescorted.  Diamond knew, though, that she would simply go mad if she had to remain in her room any longer.  Her plan was simple: she would sneak in and remain in the shadows.  From there she could watch the comings and goings and listen to the latest gossip, some of which would probably be about her.  Then, when she was a bit more relaxed, she would sneak out and return home.  

It was simple enough, and something she'd done before, though not often.  Slipping into the large public house was easy.  The difficult part would be to avoid the barman's eyes.  He would expect a customer to be drinking, even if it were only a pint.  Diamond decided to use a ruse that had been successful before.  She slipped into the '_Hoom_' and looked quickly around.  One table near the back of the large common room was empty, but a mug still stood there, waiting to be collected.  Moving swiftly, Diamond slipped into the chair and wrapped a hand around the mug handle.  Now she looked much like any of the other travelers in the dark.  As long as she kept her hood over her head, she should be fine.  

A stir from the center of the room caught Diamond's attention.  The proprietor, Mr. Clearwater, was announcing that one of their guests traveling from away south was going to honor them with a song.  Diamond couldn't help a tiny smirk.  Like most inhabitants of the far north portion of the North Farthing, Diamond had a low opinion of 'those southerners' and she had not been impressed with Opal's husband, even though her sweet eldest sister had been devoted to him.  He'd been well enough, but a bit too soft and comfortable for Diamond's tastes.  She shifted in her chair to better view this traveler, curious to see if he, too, looked like he'd been living a soft life. The stranger, still in the shadows near the hearth, strode into the center of the room and the superior smirk on Diamond's thin face froze.

_Here_ was hobbit worthy of the fantasies of young lasses.  He was taller than even Diamond's eldest brother, whom most of the North Farthing hailed as a throwback to old Bullroarer.  In fact, Diamond had never seen a hobbit of such height.  Although he had a slight bulge in his middle, this stranger was not plump and round, as was usual among hobbits.  Instead of being nervous and uncomfortable, this one held himself with an unconscious dignity that Diamond found fascinating.  He wasn't, strictly speaking, handsome, being too thin and tall, but he was certain to catch the eye of any maiden in view.  In fact, Diamond noted dryly, some of the serving lasses were peeking out from the kitchens, apparently in hopes of catching a better view of the stranger.  And then he spoke.

"Friends, hear now a tale of courage and heroism far beyond that of most Men or Hobbits," the stranger cried.  Instantly, all speech in the inn ceased.  "Picture a kingdom fallen on evil times but newly redeemed.  It has pulled itself out of ignominy and has again shown itself as proud and honorable on the field of battle.  One enemy is now destroyed, but another, mightier enemy arises from the south.  Dark is the name of the other enemy and few dare speak it.  Vast are the armies of the Dark Lord.   But though the kingdom is weakened from its earlier battle it is bound with oaths of friendship and loyalty to help its allies in the east.  Death is almost certain, but honor demands that the King of Rohan ride into battle, beside his ancient allies in Gondor in their final dark days.  His troops assemble and he rides out, not knowing that with him rides one whom he loves as dearly as his own child…"

His strong, clear voice rang out throughout the room and Diamond listened, as fascinated as everyone else.  Breathless, Diamond realized she was about to hear a new tale, one never heard in the _Hoom_ before.  "Listen, now, friends, to the Ballad of the White Lady of Rohan…"

A/N2: I have written a ballad, for this part, but it isn't complete and that is what has been taking so long.  This is the end of the chapter, and if I ever finish the ballad, I'll add it in the next chapter, but it is daunting when trying to make up something worthy of being placed in a LOTR work.  


	6. Many Meetings

Disclaimers:  Standard…see previous chapters for details.

Notes:  FINALLY!  Hopefully the rest of the story will follow more quickly.  Thank you for continuing to read!  K

Pippin's voice rang out throughout the room, clear and strong, and he saw that he had the attention of everyone there, including some of the serving lads and lasses who were standing at the doors from the kitchens to hear the tale.  "Listen, now, friends, to the Ballad of the White Lady of Rohan…"

When he finished, Pippin smiled; naturally pleased with the overwhelming applause he received.  With a deep bow, he turned and returned to his cousin's side.  Merry was on his feet and clapping as loudly as the rest.

"Pip!" he cried, delighted.  "I didn't know you'd finished it!  When did that happen?"

It was difficult to hear above the din of the continued applause and shouts for more, but Pippin easily guessed what Merry was asking.  With a grin, he turned and bowed once more, then sat back in his deep chair, feeling a flush of satisfaction that his original ballad had met with such obvious approval.  When the cheering had died down a bit and the crowd was convinced that Pippin would not give them another song, Merry tried his question again.

"That really was quite good, you know, Pip.  But when we left, you still hadn't finished it, had you?  Or were you just being a sly devil and keeping it to yourself?"

Merry's grin took any edge from his question, and Pippin found himself blushing and returning the grin.  

"Well, we've had hours and hours on this adventure of mine, so I actually put some of the time to good use.  I take it you approve?"

"It could use a bit of tightening up," Merry said honestly.  "But on the whole, it's a very good work!  You should copy it and let me send it to King Eomer!  I think he would appreciate such a wonderful work about his sister."

"Let us not get carried away, Merry," Pippin said quickly.  "It's a good enough tune for us here in the Shire, but Rohan has many bards much more talented than I.  I'd rather not have my little tune politely accepted and then stashed away in some dusty old archive, never to be seen again!"

Merry frowned.  "You do yourself a disservice, cousin.  The ballad was very good, and I, for one, should be rather disappointed if it were never heard outside the borders of the Shire.  But," he added, seeing the determined look on Pippin's face, "It is your ballad and your decision.  I just ask that you think about it."

Pippin took a long draught of his ale before returning his cousin's look.  "For you, Merry, I will think about it.  But first," he stood, placing his empty tankard on the table, "I'm for bed.  I have a feeling that my interview with my uncle will be trying at best."

Neither cousin noticed the small, cloaked figure sneaking out the double doors.

_I wonder who he was_? Diamond thought to herself as she eased back into her bedroom.  She hadn't stayed at the _Hoom_ nearly as long as she'd planned, but she could hardly be blamed.  The stranger who had just sung that lovely ballad had refused to sing further, instead returning to sit with his companion near the hearth.  Diamond had watched the two unusually poised and graceful gentlehobbits for a few moments, then had hurried back home, wanting to play the scene over in her mind again.  She had friends who worked at the _Hoom_ and she was determined to find out about the two travelers first thing in the morning.  

Removing the cloak, Diamond glanced into her looking glass and frowned.  Not that either of the travelers would ever notice her, she thought.  Especially if she happened to be in the company of any of her sisters.  It just wasn't fair that they had gotten all the looks and feminine charms, and Diamond had been left with a lively curiosity of the world around her and an unflattering desire for adventure.  That thought brought her up short.  She had never before bemoaned her character; she'd always been rather pleased with it and had expected that any gentlehobbit who took an interest in her would have to accept her as she was.  But the young stranger she'd just listened to had awakened something in her small bosom that hadn't been there before.  She had admired him and had been _attracted_ to him!  

It was that dratted ballad, Diamond told herself as she changed into her sleeping things.  An entire ballad dedicated to the brave, if grim spirit of a _female_!  And the stranger had sounded as though he had _admired_ this Eowyn of Rohan!  Diamond wasn't certain that the woman even existed, but the story did sound familiar.  She thought she remembered tales coming up the Oatbarton road from when one of her distant cousins had returned from the lands far to the south.  Tales of the dark land of Mordor, and the king of Gondor.  With a sudden gasp, Diamond wondered if, perhaps, this stranger had gotten the ballad from her cousin!  Perhaps her cousin had brought the ballad back from the foreign lands away south and had shared it with this stranger!  She'd always wanted to meet that distant cousin, because he'd had the opportunity to travel.

            _And with my luck,_ Diamond thought with a mental snort, _he'd probably be appalled at the meeting._  Tucking her light curls into her nightcap and tying the ribbons under her chin, Diamond took a last look at her reflection in the glass above her chest of drawers.  _And that stranger wouldn't even notice me, _she thought dejectedly.  Moving to her bed, she blew out the lamp on her bedside table and crawled into the bed.  The stranger's strong, clear voice seemed to echo in her head as she closed her eyes.  With a last smile at her own foolishness, Diamond drifted to sleep.

"Well, Captain Meriadoc, how do I look?"

            Merry studied his friend with a critical eye.  The cousins had shared a hearty breakfast, and then had retired to their room to dress for the forthcoming visit to Pippin's kin.  Now Merry walked slowly around Pippin, looking the hobbit up and down, finally circling to the front again.  His face was grave and Pippin wondered whether there were travel stains he'd missed on the elven cloak or his freshly pressed breeches.  Then Merry smiled.  

            "You look perfect!" he declared.  "Just as you should to visit important relatives."

            Pippin gave a relieved sigh, running his hand nervously down the front of his black and white uniform, smoothing the material.  He was quite comfortable in the attire he'd brought from Gondor, but the business of visiting relatives, regardless of how countrified he might think them, made him uneasy.  Adjusting his sword and clearing his throat, Pippin gave Merry a slight smile.

            "I must say you look rather dashing, yourself, cousin," he said, taking in Merry's own uniform.  He made a slight adjustment to the intricate leaf-brooch that fastened his cloak.  "And I'm rather relieved you'll be accompanying me.  If you're ready, Merry, let us have done with this visit, before my courage fails me!"

Diamond has risen early, fully intending to slip out and find some of her friends from the _Hoom_.  She was determined to find out more about the strangers who had been in the tavern last night.  She hurried through her bath and dressed quickly, before running a brush through the tangled mass her hair had become in the night.  What it mattered, she didn't know, as she planned to don her lad's clothing again with the heavy woolen cap firmly in place over her light curls.  Something about the strangers, especially the one who had sung, though, made her more attentive to her morning toilette than usual. 

            At breakfast her father looked around the table and beamed at his gathered children.  

"I've had a note this morning," he informed them heartily.  "We'll be having a visit from one of my nephews from away south.  He will arrive after breakfast."  Pinning Diamond with a steely look, he added, "I expect all of you to make yourselves available to meet your cousin.  If you've duties to complete, you can do 'em after you've said hello.  Is that understood?"

Diamond rolled her eyes.  What did she care about stuffy old cousins?  Everyone knew that the southern Tooks (with the possible exception of the one who'd gone off with crazy old Frodo Baggins) were a stodgy, lazy bunch who had no use for adventures.  She had no use for them, she thought rebelliously, but carefully keeping a bland expression on her face.  Her father nodded and returned to his breakfast but he then nearly shocked the life out of her by commenting that she looked prettier than usual this morning.  Ruby darted her a sly look that Diamond ignored.  Ruby was, of course, looking radiant as usual, the perfect picture of feminine charm and grace.  Marigold told her sons to shush when they went into howls of laughter at their father's comment, and finally restored order by ordering one of the kitchen lasses to clear away the breakfast.

            "Sorry, Mother!" the eldest of her sons said repentantly.  "We meant our Diamond no insult, and she knows that.  Don't you, Diamond?"

            Diamond sniffed and popped a last bit of toast into her mouth.  "As though I care about the mindless cackling of a flock of silly jackdaws as yourselves!" she replied calmly.  "My mother taught me much better than that.  Although I cannot answer for what happened to her sons."

            Casting a weary, beseeching look at the sky, Diamond glanced at her eldest brother and gave him a wink.  He grinned as his favorite sister stood and swept, almost majestically, out of the room before their father or mother could take her to task for her pert comments or for not finishing breakfast.

            As the laughter followed her down the hallway, Diamond hurried to her room.  Her frock was exchanged for breeches and a linen shirt, topped with a padded waistcoat and jacket and the woolen cap.  Tucking the final, stubborn curl into the cap, she slipped to her window and out.  

            The morning was brisk, but the southerly breeze was warm, belying the crisp nip that signaled the coming of winter.  Diamond hurried along the path, wanting to catch her friends before they became wrapped up in the preparations for the upcoming Harvest Festival.  She was in such a hurry that she nearly crashed straight into the objects of her intense interest as the two travelers were exiting the inn.

"Where has everyone got to?" Merry exclaimed, looking around the deserted common room.  The tavern and kitchens were equally deserted.  

            "Do you suppose everyone is making ready for the festival we heard about last night?" Pippin offered, equally bemused.  "I knew I should have asked Mr. Clearwater for my uncle's direction when I asked him to send a note for me.  It's been years since I've been here.  Well," he mused, "I suppose we shall have to inspect each letter box until we come to the one reading 'Begrobas Took', shan't we?"

            "That sounds like an excellent plan, cousin.  Shall we be off?"

            The two tall and very impressive hobbits were just exiting the Hoom when a small, slender lad rushed in.  The lad staggered to a stop and stared up at them with wide, almost frightened eyes.  Pippin and Merry had both reached instinctively for their swords, but saw immediately that this lad offered no danger to them.  Pippin gave Merry a sheepish look.

            "I can imagine what an image we must make, Merry.  The two hobbit boogies to frighten children."  He glanced at the lad.  "I apologize, my lad.  You took us quite by surprise."

The lad glanced from one to the other, relaxing.  He reached for his cap, but merely tugged it with a sketch of a bow.  "No 'arm done, gov," the lad replied in a squeaky voice.  

_He's even younger than I thought,_ Merry said to himself.  "Perhaps you can help us, lad," he said aloud.  "My cousin here is searching for some distant kin.  Could you direct us to the home of Begrobas Took?"

Diamond's eyes shot open and she stared outright at the two huge hobbits towering over her.  "B-Begrobas Took?" she squeaked again, her voice jumping an octave.  The handsome stranger was her _cousin?  _This was the stodgy visitor from the south?  Good heavens!  She mentally shook herself and continued.  "Yer two be wantin' ol' Mr. Took?  But what fer?  All his girls be shackled or too young for such 'andsome, strappin' gennel'obbits as yerselves."

Oh, heavens, what had made her say that?  They were sure to take offense at her impertinence.  What business was it of hers whether these two sought wives or already had some?  They certainly wouldn't look twice at her.  And the younger, the one she'd admired, was her _cousin!_  He was probably the cousin she'd heard all the glowing and often disapproving tales of!  Now that she saw him she knew that he was absolutely perfect, and was much too old for her.  He would be looking to take a wife and she would not be marriageable for another five or six years.  She looked sadly to the ground as the older of the two laughed merrily.

"I assure you, lad, we haven't come to court.  My cousin here merely seeks to visit his kin and pass along messages from the Took."

"Besides," Pippin added with a smile, "Captain Meriadoc here is already spoken for and I," he paused.  "Er, I shall follow in my esteemed relative Frodo's footsteps and remain a bachelor.  Now, about the direction?"

Diamond found herself speechless for a moment.  A bachelor?  Him?  That seemed too sad for words.  She was certain any hobbit maid would be the happiest lass in the land to be his wife!  She almost blurted this out, but caught herself. 

"O' course," she answered, deepening her voice.  "Yer can fin' the ol' Took up the path.  'Is'll be th' ninth door, wi' the potted box t' either side and a scarlet letter box.  Now, if yer will 'scuse me, 've got chores to be 'bout."

With another tug of her cap, Diamond escaped into the kitchens to hide until the two left.  Oh, no, what was she to do now?  Of course if the family had visitors, Diamond would be expected to meet them.  And how could she do that with them traveling the same path to her home.  Why, oh why did she always give into her unfeminine impulses?  Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Diamond squared her shoulders and resigned herself.  She would have to follow them at a distance, not allowing them to catch sight of her.  When they entered her home, she would slip back into her room and quickly change.  Then, when the call came to meet visiting kin, she would be prepared. 

Her heart sank as she realized she would never be prepared to meet her handsome young cousin.

"Well, that was quite odd.  I know Sam always goes on about the strangeness of these 'northern foreigners', but that was stranger than I had expected."

Pippin nodded at his cousin.  "That lad seemed quite flustered, though if I had unexpectedly come face to face with two armed strangers, I might feel a bit off myself.  He seemed young, yet I have a feeling he was not quite as young as we thought."

"I know what you mean, Pip.  Very strange lad.  And I believe he's following us…No, don't look behind.  You might scare him off.  We'll just see what he's up to, and ask your uncle about it."

Pippin had been on the point of turning to scan for the young scamp, but at Merry's words, he shrugged.  "All right, then.  We've quite a bit to ask my uncle about, haven't we?  The Hoom, the young lad, and all this about the mails.  Did you notice, Merry, that the letterboxes we've passed are all freshly painted, and last night some of them even had letters in them?  It makes one wonder whether my father wasn't up to something when he sent me here."

"You know, Pippin, you're right!  I never noticed because seeing a letter in a letterbox is quite normal.  If there were some problem with delivery, wouldn't the boxes look neglected?  Hmm, it does make one wonder."

"We'll not wonder for much longer," Pippin informed him with a smile.  "Scarlet letterbox, potted boxwood hedge on either side of the door, and the nameplate reading 'B. Took and family'.  I think we've come to the right place."

Diamond watched as the two tall hobbits were greeted at the door and practically dragged in to the sprawling, comfortable hobbit hole.  She scrambled into the window, not noticing that one of the visitors had looked back and saw her ungainly entry into the dwelling.  

"Captain Took, and Captain Brandybuck!" Begrobas beamed as he dragged the younger hobbits into the largest and finest sitting room in the place.  "Have a seat!  Let my lad take your cloaks!  Ah," he added when he noted the livery and swords beneath the concealing elven cloaks.  "You two have a tale or two to tell and no question of it!  Have a seat!"

He directed them to two large, comfortable chairs near the roaring fire and motioned them to sit.  "There, now, gentlehobbits, warm your feet and let me take a look at you!"

Pippin gave Merry a self-conscious look but Merry smiled back.  He knew what it was like visiting kin and had been prepared for this fulsome welcome.  He grinned and endured when Begrobas sat back in his own large, overstuffed chair and inspected them.  That was the only word to describe Begrobas' visual cataloging of the two younger hobbits.  He began at the crown of the two well-groomed, curly heads, scanning the earnest, honest young faces.  He continued down to the livery each wore and the shining swords that looked functional, rather than ornamental.  His gaze took in the pressed but slightly worn breeches and immaculate but travel-roughened feet.  His inspection was so thorough that Pippin felt an urge to jump to attention, saluting.  He quelled it with difficulty, and remained where he was, passively accepting his relative's scrutiny.  

Begrobas stared at them both for another moment before breaking into a loud roar of a laugh.  "I like you both!  You're tough, tougher than the general run of soft southerners we see in these parts!  I'd wager you'd not back down from an honest fight, no matter what the odds.  So, which one of you is it my cousin Paddy sent for me to get shackled?"

"Paddy?" Pippin asked, mystified.

"Shackled?"  Merry sounded horrified.  "Er, no sir, I think you're mistaken."

Begrobas looked from one to the other and laughed again.  "So, the old dog did it again, did he?  Gave you some cock and bull story about trouble in the North Farthing, eh?  What was it this time?  Great white wolves?  Bad Men from the south?  A bit of ogre raiding?"

Pippin glanced at Merry, a very worried expression on his face.  "Er, I'm sorry sir, I don't understand," he said quickly.  Unfortunately, Pippin was afraid he did understand.  He remembered suddenly that a year or so before he and Merry had followed Frodo and Sam on the adventure of a lifetime, one of his many Took cousins had been sent north at the bidding of the Took.  The fellow had returned some months later shackled to a distant northern relative.  His eyes grew wide.

"I think," he told Merry quickly, "that we have the answer to the riddle of the letter boxes."

Looking at his uncle/cousin, he said, "There has been no trouble with the mails, has there?"

The older hobbit grinned and reached into one of the pockets of his expansive brocade waistcoat.  Withdrawing a letter, he opened it.

With a look of distinct enjoyment, he began to read.  

'Dearest cousin, 

You will soon sustain a visit from my son Peregrin and his dear friend and cousin Meriadoc.  Captain Meriadoc is a Brandybuck of the finest family as well as being in the service of one of the Kings of Men in the south.  You will no doubt have heard tell of both of their adventures two years ago.  Peregrin is also in the service of one of southern Kings and despite his lack of years is much a mature hobbit of good sense.  

'Either of these lads would make a wonderful husband for any of your young daughters and it is my great wish to bring closer the ties between our families.  Should this venture find favor with you, please do what you may to bring this happy event about.  However, if this is not possible at this time, I commend them to you with the assurance that they will give satisfaction should you have any need for their unique services.  

'At any rate, my compliments to your lovely wife and all your family, and I remain your

                                                Cousin Paladin'

Merry and Pippin looked at one another with a mixture of horror and amusement as Begrobas folded the note away into his pocket once more.  Then, taking one look at their faces, he began to roar with laughter.  Indeed, he laughed so loud and long that Pippin was afraid the older hobbit might suffocate from want of air.  He was about to approach his uncle when a lovely maiden entered the room. 

"Father," she said, hurrying to Begrobas' side.  "Are you ill?  What has happened to you to bring this fit of mirth upon you?"

Pippin could only stare at the hobbit maiden for a moment, a bit taken aback with her beauty, while Merry joined her at her father's side. 

"We happened to him, I'm sorry to say," Merry answered with a smile.  "Apparently there was a joke on someone and it turned out to be us!  Your father is rather enjoying it, it appears."

Ruby, for it was indeed Ruby who had entered, turned to Merry with a radiant smile.  "Oh, I understand completely," she said in an affected, breathy whisper.  "Father does so like his little jokes." 

She seemed not to notice her father any longer as she engaged the surprisingly dashing-looking hobbit in conversation.  Her first breathy utterance had broken the spell over Pippin, and he now looked at her more critically.  She was indeed very lovely, but she seemed rather shallow.  Not that Pippin had any right to judge her, but he was immediately filled with an indifference to her affectations.  Therefore, he was a good deal amused at the maiden's sudden interest in Merry.  She linked an arm through Merry's and started leading him _away_ from the older hobbit, her previous concern for Begrobas' health apparently forgotten.  Pippin hurried to his uncle's side and place a hand on his arm. 

"Here, sir, have you a handkerchief about?  I would offer mine, but Merry and I left without any.  Would you care to sit?"

Begrobas finally got his laughter under control as he groped in another pocket for a handkerchief.  Mopping at his streaming eyes, he sat heavily on his chair and wheezed in a deep breath.  

"Beg pardon," he managed after a moment.  "Paddy's done it again!  So you young bucks had no idea?"

Pippin cast a swift look to Merry, who was attempting to extricate himself from the pretty maid's grasp while trying to seem not to.  He grinned.  The maid would have no luck there, he thought, a brief vision of Estella flitting through his head.  Turning back to his uncle, he said, "Indeed, sir, my father primed us with a story about there being trouble with the mail in the North Farthing.  Merry and I were almost decided that it must be a ruse, however, when we noted that many of the letter boxes contained letters as we came in yesterday."

Begrobas returned the smile and leaned forward.  "Ah, and it is too bad that my daughter was just betrothed or you could have done your business and been done that quickly!"

He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point, but Pippin shook his head. "Oh, no sir," he said.  "Unfortunately, Merry is also spoken for.  A lovely maid, Estella Bolger, is waiting for his return as we speak.  I believe they plan to wed in the spring."

Both turned back to see Ruby lift her chin in distain as Merry backed away apologetically. "Apparently Ruby's just found out the same thing," Begrobas murmured, his mouth lifting in a smile.  "As well, anyway, since I'll not have her throwing her beau over for the first pretty face she sees.  But," he said fondly, by way of explanation, "She is like most of her sisters and must have the attention of any eligible swain in the vicinity.  I would say that you should now prepare for an assault.  Just remember, she is already betrothed."

Pippin began to reassure his uncle that marriage was the last thing on his mind when the door opened again.  This time, two females entered.  One looked to be of an age with Begrobas, but was still a picture of grace and charm, while the other looked to be much younger.  Begrobas stood immediately and moved toward them, his hands outstretched to the elder.

"Marigold, my dear, come and meet your young nephew and his friend!"

Marigold Took strode gracefully toward her husband, while the younger lass remained near the door.  Marigold's fine, intelligent brown eyes weren't fixed on her husband, however.  Nor were they on the two guests.  With a quick frown, she addressed the maiden whom they had already met.  "Ruby, dearest, please excuse yourself and see to the tea."

Ruby, who had been homing on Pippin, now turned to her mother with a huff.  "But Mother!  Cannot Diamond…"  She stopped at the sudden firm look her mother gave her.  "Yes, Mother," she said quietly, a soft flush coming to her cheeks.  She stalked to the door and seemed to give the other lass a hard look.  Then she exited the room quickly, her skirts twitching in vexation or indignation, though Pippin wasn't certain which.  

He could only smile at the mother who had so quickly seen her daughter's motives and nipped them so efficiently in the bud.  His delight was genuine when he met his aunt.

"Marigold, this is Paddy's lad, Peregrin."

Marigold held her hand to Pippin, who took it and bent over it.  "It is my pleasure, Madam Took," he said quickly.  When he lifted his head, he saw that she was eying him speculatively.  He hoped she wasn't sizing him up as a possible candidate to replace Ruby's current betrothed.  Lovely as the maid was, Pippin didn't like the airs she had affected.  He wasn't interested.  He did wonder, though, at the lass still standing, head down, by the door.  He hadn't had a proper look at her, but he was certain that she was not nearly as attractive as Ruby had been.  Was she some poor cousin or niece?  As Marigold continued to study her nephew, the speculative look disappeared suddenly and she smiled radiantly at him.  

"Please, call me Marigold, or Mari, or even Aunt, but Madam Took should be a title reserved for your own dear mother.  How is Lanie?"

"My mother is very well, thank you.  Do you know her well?"  Pippin thought she must since no one called the former Eglantine Banks 'Lanie' except his father.  

"I did," she replied.  "We spent several summers together when we were younger."  She was speaking to Pippin, but her eyes were now sizing up Merry, who had approached when Ruby had huffed out of the room.   "When we were lasses and could climb trees and splash and play with no one to disapprove.  You see, we spent much time in Woody End and the Green Hills country.  We even forded the Thistle Brook, and explored the banks of the Shirebourn.  We were sadly lacking in respectability, but we were lucky in our husbands."

While Pippin smiled at the familiar names of his home countryside, Marigold gave her husband a fond smile.  The older hobbit returned it tenfold.  Taking her hand, he beamed at Pippin.  "Ah, she's a rare one, to be sure!" he confided.  "I always did like having a bit of an adventure myself!  When she pushed me into the river and then had to fetch me out again since I couldn't swim, I knew it was love!"

Flushing delicately, Marigold gave his arm a slap.  "Now, Mr. Took, you're telling stories that perhaps should be saved for closer acquaintance."

Pippin looked at the graceful hobbitwife in front of him with even more respect.  She appeared so demure and refined, but he could indeed imagine her younger version pushing his uncle into a stream and then hauling him out again.  Pippin couldn't help but wish there were still maidens like that.  Then he started.  

"Half a moment!" he cried, remembering something.  "I believe my mother has mentioned the incident before!  She used to laugh at me when I complained that the lasses in the family were all so proper.  None of them would ever get properly dirty.  She would tell tales of how she and her friend Mari were used to tramping about and horrifying the elders.  To think that I finally have the pleasure of meeting that legendary figure."

Pippin bowed low at the waist, surprising a loud shout of laughter from his uncle and a small, girlish giggle from his aunt.  

"May I say, once again, what a pleasure it is to meet you.  And please let me present my best friend, Meriadoc Brandybuck.  Merry, this is the aunt my mother used to tell tales of!"

Merry came forward with a slightly less formal bow and a warm smile.  "So I had gathered," he said.  "It's an honor."

Marigold smiled and greeted Merry graciously.  Then she turned back to Pippin.  "I believe you should call me 'Aunt' and leave it at that.  We cannot have two 'Merrys', can we?  Now, Peregrin--"

"Pippin, please," Pippin interrupted.

"Pippin," she smiled.  "Am I to understand that you admired the antics of your mother and me in our youth?  I had thought that young lads today wanted more refined maids?"

Pippin felt his cheeks flush.  "I'm afraid I'm considered rather odd, even for a Took.  Definitely not a respectable hobbit.  I expect I'll follow in the footsteps of my cousins Bilbo and Frodo and remain a bachelor."

Marigold gave Pippin an odd smile, but only said, "And that would be a sad waste, I think."

Her eyes twinkled once more as she added, "But forgive me.  My manners are abominable!  You have already met Ruby, so let me introduce you to my middle daughter, Diamond."

She gestured toward the young lass near the door, who seemed to shift uncomfortably, then straighten.  The lass threw back her light curls and, with the air of one condemned and marching to the gallows, approached.

Merry made an odd sound in his throat, causing Pippin to look questioningly at him.  Merry seemed to be struggling not to grin.  Pippin glanced back at his young female cousin, wondering what about the lass had caused Merry's fit of mirth.  He took in the light curls, the neat dress and light, knitted shawl before studying the face.  Unlike her sister, this lass was not stunning.  

She was a shade too thin for most hobbit tastes, but her features were regular enough.  It was her eyes that made her so unusual, though.  Brown though they were, like most of hobbit-kind, they seemed lit with some inner fire, as though she knew something wonderful that the rest of the world was not yet privy to.  

Pippin was still at a loss as to what had caused Merry's odd behavior when the lass spoke.  

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Cousin Pippin," she said quietly, with a formal curtsy.  "Perhaps you'd indulge us later with tales of your travels?"

Pippin had looked away to Merry for a second, but at the first few words his gaze had swung back to the small, thin lass in front of them.  In those few words, he recognized the voice of the lad they'd nearly trampled at the Hoom!


	7. The Ballad of the White Lady of Rohan

Author's note:  Not really an update.  This is the 'Ballad of the White Lady of Rohan', and is my first (and last) attempt at poetry, balladry or lyricry (is that a word?).  After you read this you'll see why.  Anyway, I realized it isn't up to JRRT standards, but here is the ballad that Pippin sings in the 'Hoom' the night that Diamond sneaks out.  Anyway, keep in mind that this story is written to be in canon with the books, not the movies.  My son says that this ballad is horribly, paralyzingly long, but here it is for better or worse. 

Down away in southern lands,

Live a people proud and stern,

Gold their hair and clear their eyes,

And courage in them brightly burns.

Golden halls rise high on mount,

And fields green surround their land,

On horses tall and proud they go,

Brave are the Riders of Rohan.

When darkness fell on halls of men,

And Theoden King sent out the call,

For duty and honor would they ride,

For love of king would give their all

A shield maid then forth did come,

For sister-daughter of the king,

Eowyn fair to war would go,

And let her blade in battle ring.

But Theoden would have it not,

And laid upon brave maid the task,

'See safe our people to the hills,

Be queen and leader, this I ask.'

Proud head bowed, and shoulders dropped,

Fair Eowyn her charge would keep,

Though heart and mind with king did dwell,

And worried love did make her weep.

Amid the Men of Rohirrim,

A grave and slender lad did ride,

Dernhelm, son of unknown sire,

He kept to his beloved king's side.

To Minas Tirith did they go,

Hard the ride through night and day,

But Dernhelm kept his careful watch,

And hardship could his zeal not stay.

Dark the day when Rohan came,

To Minas Tirith riding strong,

Theoden saw the chief of Haradrim,

To hew their standard did he long.

Through throng and crowd, past spear and sword,

No blow could stop the swift Snowmane,

And taking up his battle spear,

By Theoden was the chieftain slain.

But King of Mark could not foresee,

When sun gave way to darkened sky,

And horror from foul, deep pit,

Descended on him from on high.

Alone stood king on battle field,

And faithful Snowmane stood there too,

But evil Nazgul still came on,

And mad fell horse as darkness grew.

In terror Snowmane sky attacked,

In panic did the brave steed fall,

The king too soon was then brought low,

His end no healer's skill could stall.

Nazgul-lord and beast of doom,

Did fallen king seek to despoil,

But one stood there to guard the King,

Dernhelm brave would Nazgul foil.

'Away thou fool,' said Nazgul-lord,

'Lest Death be not thy destiny,

Come not between me and my prey,

Or thou the Lidless Eye shall see!'

'Hinder you I shall and must,'

Cried slim Dernhelm, grim and brave,

For kin of mine do you see there,

And from your filth will him I save!'

'Hinder me?' came evil laugh,

'That task no living man may do,'

Then stern and strong came Dernhelm's voice,

'No living Man stands before you!'

And lo, upon the battle field,

Tall and fair, with shining sword,

Eowyn, Lady of Rohan,

Stood proudly to defend her lord.

Now Nazgul-lord at this did pause,

But his beast did still pursue,

And with one stroke, both skilled and strong,

Eowyn the fell beast slew.

From wreck of steed did Nazgul-lord,

Rise up with sword in evil rage,

And there upon the Pelennor,

With Eowyn did then engage.

While darkness grew round watchers nigh,

Did Nazgul Eowyn's shield smite,

Her shield-arm broke and deathly cold,

Still flashed the sword of Eowyn bright.

'Tween helm and shoulder did she strike,

As darkness claimed her from the light,

And Nazgul-lord at last was slain,

And maiden slipped from day to night.

For hard the journey they must take,

Who dare to strike so dark a foe,

So Eowyn slept as one nigh death,

And from her face no light did glow.

All who saw her did despair,

Who in all the land might call

To maiden in her death-black sleep,

And wake her from the evil thrall?

'Hands of healer, hands of King,'

The wise among the healers spake,

'Only him, the rightful Lord

Can from this darkness Eowyn wake.'

Then weary stranger, travel stained,

Was brought into the healing hall,

With skill and pity did he toil,

And to him did he Eowyn call.

And, lo!  Awake came Eowyn,

But not to joy did lady come,

Years of care and dark despair,

Sealed her heart in bitter tomb.

'Tarry here,' bid Aragorn,

King of Gondor, yet uncrowned,

'Thou hast earned thy rest and ease.'

Yet hearing him, did Eowyn frown.

'Are no saddles empty now?

That I may ride and follow thee?

Tis not death that I do fear,

But a cage surrounding me!'

East and north the army rode

Grim and stern, tall and proud

From healer's walls did Eowyn watch

Her spirit wrap'd in dismal shroud

Peaceful is the healer's hall

In body inmates there do mend

But in mind did Eowyn ail

Contentment she could not pretend

Steward of the city heard

Of this fairest maiden's plight

He, too, inmate of the hall

Recovering from Nazgul blight

To Eowyn's side the Steward went

Though full of grief and deepest pain 

Faramir, son of Denathor

From battle he too, did remain

Pity filled him when he saw

Pale maiden, stiff and proud

Watching east where all their hopes

Lay hidden by dark war clouds

'Tell me, lady, how I may

relieve this burden that you bear?

Sad it makes me to see you

Sorrow filled in cold wind's glare'

Eowyn looked on handsome face

But was unmoved by pity there

'You may not my darkness take,

while our fate hangs by a hair

'From the leeches do I seek

to be freed to follow thence.

In the battle might I find

Honor in my land's defense'

'Honor have you found in life.

Seek it not in useless death.

We have both our parts now played.

You have earned a hero's rest'

Cold had been the maiden's heart

But at the words of Faramir

Did she feel a sudden change

And warmth began to grow in her

So they stood on tower high

Watching always east and north

Until on darkest sunless morn

Changing wind did news bring forth

From the east came on high

Voice of noble eagle crying, 

'Sing now, all ye of Anor

Sing for Sauron's evil dying'

Golden were the days that passed

While the city readied all

To welcome King and valiant host

To celebrate dark Sauron's fall

But amid the joyous throng

Eowyn began to ail

Healer to the Steward went

Telling him of maiden's tale

To her side did Steward go

And there they walked along the wall

Long they talked when Faramir

Turned to Eowyn, proud and tall

'Do you stay because the king

Requested not that you be near?

Or may I hope that you remain

Because my duties keep me here?

Suddenly did Eowyn 

Her heart's desire realize

But the words would not come forth

And Faramir did agonize

'Do you not love me?  Or will you not?'

Faramir asked Eowyn

Then Rohan's maiden knew her heart

And gladly gave her love to him

And now they live in peace and love 

In the fair Ithilien

Faramir, prince of garden land

And his White Lady of Rohan


End file.
